


Hot Pocket

by Nobi



Series: Fine Dining [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, F/M, Gen, Lets Kick Will, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rape/Non-con Elements, Season/Series 01 Spoilers, Sexual Content, Sexual Violence, Violence Against Toasters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-15 05:31:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 36,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nobi/pseuds/Nobi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Through Alana's guidance, Will hesitates on taking Abigail to Minnesota. This hesitation leads to different doors being opened and something a little worse than prison in store for our deer Will Graham.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chicken and Cheddar with Broccoli

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kassie!](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Kassie%21).



> Don't eat me.

"I am awake and this is real."

That was what Will had spoken strongly to Hannibal before stepping out of his office, feeling for the first time clear headed. He could see the connections, the spider webs tangling together, leading black to the black widow waiting at the center. Spiders could be crushed though. Abigail could help, he was sure she could lead him to exactly where he needed to go.

Dr. Lecter's words hung on his mind. As a psychatrist he was of course the most qualified to speak about his mental ... illness as it were. He had confidence in Dr. Lecter's care though something gave him short pause. Perhaps the leaps he was making were a little difficult to grasp for a layman. A layman, as if Dr. Lecter couldn't grasp this level of psychology. 

He sat in his car, grasping the wheel and tightening his jaw. He may feel clear headed but only days ago he was losing time, losing his mind. He needed to slow down. If there was any chance this was true he desperately needed to slow down and approach it more carefully. Which meant getting a second opinion.

The positive of working in the field he worked was that he knew a few psychologists, and had access to a few more. Though, this was unofficial so it was better to approach the evil he knew than something strange and new. There was only one other psychatrist he trusted enough to share his brand of crazy with and he started his car to head to her home.

Dr. Alana Bloom was exactly what he needed at this moment, someone who would understand. He pulled into her driveway and took a deep breath. The last time he'd been here resulted in the death of one Dr. Abel Gideon. He couldn't remember a good portion of that night, his mind a fevered haze.

"I'm in Baltimore, Maryland. Its 5:15 pm. My name is Will Graham." Murmured, an old reminder. A habit picked up to counteract madness.

He wasn't feeling mad right now. He was feeling liberated. His mind clear, his eyes open. Georgia Madchen was forced to die a horrible death for those eyes to be opened. Now he needed to be vindicated.

He climbed from the car and strode through the brisk afternoon towards Alana's home and he rapped on the door. His immediate desire was to turn and run, like a teenager playing a game but more out of a sudden loss of confidence in the moment. This was the woman who'd rejected him, a blow that wasn't quite healed.

She opened the door and looked surprised. Her eyes widened, pupils dilating with excitement and that was all Will saw of her eyes before he lost contact with them, glancing down to her collarbone. He refocused on that spot on her forehead to imitate eye contact, though even that put him under pressure.

"Alana.. I needed to talk to you about something."

"Hello to you too, Will." She smiled, a pretty smile, a quite amused smile. She stepped aside to allow him inside, welcoming him into that comfortable abode.

Will didn't even take time to take off his coat, blowing into what he needed to say while he still had the focus to do so. "I think I found a connection between Georgia Madchen's death and Sutcliffe, Cassie Boyle, Marissa Shore, I can see it now. Its clear in my head." He tapped his temple, feeling his blood rise. "Georgia Madchen didn't kill herself, she was murdered, murdered so the one that killed Sutcliffe could get away with more than one murder."

Alana still had that smile on her face, though it had a blank quality to it. The face of someone overwhelmed. She slowly brought her hands together to clasp fingers together and she looked down, taking a moment to process. It put Will on edge. It felt like she was going to blow him off, the same way Jack blew him off.

"Those are.. ... Big leaps, Will. Not only by distance but by circumstances of death." She was speaking carefully, the way people spoke when trying not to rile another. "Three completely separate manners of death, only two linked to the copycat definitively, the other two linked to Nick Boyle and Georgia Madchen..."

"I don't.." He didn't want to say care. "I don't... think that is absolute. The copycat imitated Garret Jacob Hobbs, but not exactly. He imitated Madchen, but not exactly, there was a different feel, a subtly..."

"You're talking about this as if you have evidence to back it up. Do you have the evidence?" She stepped around him, leading him to the kitchen. He followed. She knew he would follow.

"No, I don't have evidence but I can visualize it, I can see their thinking. He attacked Dr. Sutcliffe to frame me, he made it personal. Madchen was just an unfortunate bystander. He framed her instead, but when he thought she could remember his face he removed her as well."

Alana was handing him a beer and he accepted it but didn't open it, just waving his hands as he spoke. It was easier to allow him to extrapolate before interrupting.

"He's focused on me, because I'm on to him, and he knows that I'm on to him. I was blind because of the fever, but now... now I can focus, I can see."

"Well that doesn't sound paranoid at all." She lifted her brows at him, noting that it brought him to a frustrated pause. She hadn't expected the look on his face when she didn't agree with him.

"Will, stop for a moment. Take a drink. Breathe." 

"I don't need to breathe, I need someone to listen to me. I can find the connections, I just need to take Abigail back to Minnesota, finding the pattern--"

Alana set her beer down and grasped his hands, forcing them down to his sides. "Will. You've just gotten over a fever. A fever that caused you to lose time, to hallucinate, to feel crazy. You need to take a step back. What you're suggesting can only lead to someone that is close to you, someone you know, or who is in the Beureau and involved with the cases."

Will nodded, his free hand turning, fingers closing briefly around Alana's before she made a small deft move to free them. He did take note of it, a dull ache in his chest. "I can find the pattern. I can make the connections, if given the chance. I just need Abigail."

There was a silence between them for a moment. Alana peered up at him, steady. She reached up and cupped his cheek, then his forehead, which caused Will's temper to flare, taking furious steps backwards from her as if she'd raised his hand to strike him.

"I don't have a fever, Alana! Its broken, my head is clear."

"If I'm searching for your fever, Will, then you must know others will be as well. You're recovering. Jack knows you're recovering, Hannibal knows you're recovering. Hannibal better than the rest of us, as you've been talking to him more than any of us." She picked up her beer again, tilting it slightly towards him. "Take that into account. Find your evidence."

"I'm trying." His voice was almost a snap, his temper twitching. "I'm trying, but I need Abigail."

"As her psychatirst I'm imploring you to wait. Just... wait, Will. Don't pull her into something when most people will doubt your word."

Will looked frustrated. He tightened his jaw, looked away. She doubted him. He should have expected her to doubt him. They all doubted him. 

"If I go to Minnesota... If I find the pattern on my own, without Abigail..."

"That isn't waiting. That's rushing in." 

Will's response was to crack open his drink. He needed alcohol in his system to deal with all the fucking haterade in this place. He took a long gulp, eyes closing, then he lowered the bottle, giving his head a shake.

"So you want me to find evidence without looking for evidence, is that what you're saying?"

Alana set her bottle down and rested her hand on her hip, turning to face him with her head tilting to the side. "... Will, what part of you've just recovered from a fever are you letting click in your decidedly intelligent, mostly functional mind?"

"I'm not sure how much of that was an actual compliment."

She smiled, and he returned it, slightly, staring at that spot on her forehead. It was a moment but the moment passed as Will looked away from her. He looked at the bottle, then turned, leaning down against the counter, pressing his hands over his face and rubbing them up through his hair before setting his forehead against the cool surface.

No, he didn't feel like he had a fever. Yet they would all believe it was fever talking. It was why Jack looked at him like he was still mad, why Dr. Lecter called him paranoid. Alana was a painful voice of reason.

"I'll wait a few days." He lifted his head, picking up the bottle again. "I'll look further into the evidence, the evidence that we already have. I'll reconstruct, I'll take the time and then I'm going to Minnesota and I'm finding the pattern."

Alana toasted him. "Excellent." She took a drink, Will mirroring her. "Are you intending on staying now? Cozy up by the space heater like promised?"

Will choked on his drink, and quickly pressed the back of his hand against his mouth, giving her a slightly dark look. She was grinning at him, looking pleased with herself to have gained such a reaction.

"That isn't fair, Dr. Bloom. You made it very clear you desire more stability and you just implied I'm still unstable." He saw the look in her eye change a little, looking a little ashamed of herself. Shame wasn't the emotion he'd been seeking when he said that to her.

"You're right."

"Alana.."

"No, you're right, Will. I've been flirting despite my turning you down and that's a bit ... cruel of me." 

Will looked down. Looked away. Admired her choice of curtains and what fine cutlery she had in her sink, unwashed. "I don't... mind. Wholly, I mean. It makes me feel a little more human. A little more sane."

Alana's shame dissipated to something warmer, coaxing an equal sense of warmth into Will's mind. "I'm glad that I can bring you some level of sanity then."

"... I should go." Will motioned with the beer, then squinted at the beer, his brow furrowing. "Before I get beyond the driveable limit, I'm going to leave this here."

"I'll be more than happy to finish it. Like a second hand kiss."

Will managed a chuckle this time, pointing at her as he shook his head, brows raising. "You certainly take advantage of the inch given, don't you... Thank you Alana."

Alana took the bottle from him and walked him to the door. "You're welcome, Will. Take care on your drive. Find your connections if they're there."

The door clicked behind him in the brisk air. The beer felt warm in his stomach, and his mind felt more settled. The urgency though had not passed. He was afraid of hesitating, even for a moment. It could mean more deaths, ones he could avoid if he kept moving forward. It was a dangerous balancing act and the blade in this case was sharper than most.


	2. Philly Steak and Cheese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail goes for a visit to Will's to talk about a possible investigation led by Jack Crawford.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is unbeta'd. Aren't I brave? I'm so brave.

"Its weird, I don't think I've ever actually been to your place..." Abigail was nervous, that much Will could sense. "Not that I don't appreciate the chance to get out of the hospital..."

"I thought Dr. Bloom and Dr. Lecter made sure you got out often enough?" Will paused on his front porch, hand on the door. "Or so I've heard."

Abigail's blush was pretty on her face. "That's... It's been awhile since I've snuck out. Dr. Bloom said all I have to do is ask her. She scolded Dr. Lecter too."

That was a scene Will would have found amusement in if he'd been there to witness. It brought a smile to his face and he unlocked the door to allow the pair of them in. The dogs were immediately at their feet, sniffing and the smaller ones standing on back legs to try and reach them around larger animals. 

To hear Will had many dogs was one thing, to actually see them all crowding around was another. Abigail's eyes widened and she extended her hands out, letting them sniff and lick, her smile growing wider at the sight of all the happy faces peering up at her. The only one who seemed truly excited to see her of late was Freddie Lounds. Lounds was getting a paycheck off of her though. It was understandable.

"Just push through them, they can be a little needy when you first come in." Will stroked Winston's head as he passed the loyal dog, the only one who seemed to be paying much mind to Will over Abigail. 

"Why do you have so many? Doesn't your job take you around the country?" She followed his direction, pushing through and the dogs started to scatter this way and that, returning to their beds and a few to the bowls in the kitchen.

"I take in strays." Will helped Abigail from her coat and hung both. "If I can find their homes or better than I can offer then I give them up. Otherwise I have a neighbor who comes to feed them. Dr. Lecter and Dr. Bloom have both stopped in as well."

Abigail nodded and folded her hands together, taking a moment to examine her surroundings. Who Will was showed in his home, reflecting an image of a solitary man living a lonely existance. It made her heart go out to him, as she could understand the loneliness. She was certain it was something she would face more as she set out into the world and didn't have her doctors surrounding her to give support.

"What did you want to talk to me about? Is it about going to Minnesota? Dr. Bloom told me I shouldn't go. At least not right now." 

Will gave a small, tight smile, eyes flicking away. "She told me the same."

He kept himself from expanding on it. Abigail was thus far untouched by Will's problems. If he were to keep her confidence he needed to give her a stable ground to walk on. Though he felt unwell this evening. She had even asked in the car if he was feeling under the weather, describing his appearance as pasty.

'I'm fine' he had said. 'Just recovering.'

Abigail was sure Will was lying about being fine. She assumed he was pushing through simply because he'd invited Dr. Lecter up from Baltimore as well, to come over for dinner. Dr. Bloom couldn't make it but Dr. Lecter had agreed. It made her curious.

"Is there something else?" Her voice sounded a little anxious. Will took note of that as well.

He motioned for her to come sit at the rather small table, far more intimate of a setting than Dr. Lecter's grander choice. The less anxious she was would mean the less anxious Will would feel as well. It was difficult not to reflect the emotions others were presenting him of late. Jack Crawford's hostility especially.

"Is it something serious?" Her anxiety had only worsened at being asked to sit.

"No, it shouldn't be. We should wait for Dr. Lecter to get here, I'd like you to have as much support as possible.." Why couldn't Alana have made it?

Abigail shook her head, grasping the back of the chair. "You can't tell me something like that then expect me to wait."

Will pulled his glasses off and set them on the table. His hands met his face a second later and he tried to rub the tension away. "Could I get you something to drink before we go into this?"

"You're stalling."

"Yes, I am." He didn't allow himself to be swayed. "I'll get you a water."

Abigail pressed her lips into a thin line, feeling frustrated. She wasn't as delicate as they treated her. She sank down into the chair and laced her fingers together, focusing on Will's glasses.

When Will returned with the pair of waters he found Abigail quickly pulling his glasses from her face.

"I'm sorry. I just..."

"Its fine." He set the glass down in front of her. He sat across from her and held his glass with both hands, staring into the water. 

They were silent together for a long moment, Abigail fidgeting with Will's glasses in her hands and Will turning his glass between his fingers. 

"Abigail.. Before I spoke to you about going to Minnesota I brought up finding a connection between the murders to Jack Crawford." His eyes refocused on her forehead. He could see how her brow furrowed at his words. "He may look over your father's case with a finer toothed comb, as well as Nick Boyle."

There was a shift in Abigail's eyes, a fear there. They lowered to the table, darting this way and that and her nostrals flared. A moment of panic was there before she looked back up at Will. 

"But.. What connection? Between the murders?"

Will realized he'd mispoken and he pressed his hands onto the table. "I feel... like I may be on to something. That the copycat has a longer list of victims... One that includes Marissa..."

"Nick Boyle killed Marissa." Her voice was firm. "There was evidence."

He tilted his head, hands sliding back towards himself. "Yes there was... But I can see a connection, beyond Nick Boyle." He found her eyes, briefly. "I don't want you to think that this changes how you should feel about killing him."

Not that feeling good about killing the man was a positive feeling for a young girl to have.

"I just wanted to warn you that since I did bring it up to Jack..."

He was interrupted by a knock at the door and he lifted his hand to pause the conversation. It was most likely Dr. Lecter. He stood and strode to the door, swinging it open.

"Dr. Lecter. I'm glad you could make it." 

Dr. Lecter gave him a small smile as he entered the house. Winston made himself scarce from the man as he always seemed to though the other dogs moved to greet him.

"Good evening, Will. This is a very unusual visit for me. I see your dogs have come to associate my presence with the coming of food." 

The dogs had formed a neat sitting circle around them, looking expectantly at the good doctor. Will smiled at them, before snapping his fingers to draw their attention and shoo them off. "Abigail is in the kitchen. We were just talking about what you and I had a conversation about at your office."

"Will, I asked you not to involve Abigail.." Dr. Lecter looked a little cross at him, a slight irritation behind his eyes.

Will held up his hand, shaking his head. "No, I'm not involving her. I was warning her. I spoke to Jack Crawford about the connection I found. I'm certain he's going to investigate further into all of the cases, including her father's. It means they're going to possibly interview her again, and with what happened with Nick Boyle..."

There was that discomfort in the pit of his stomach again. He was hiding this murder for Abigails' sake, at the behest of his psychiatrist. It was a twisted little web of lies, one that could affect all of them if one of them were found out.

Dr. Lecter's head turned slightly, glancing out towards the kitchen where Abigail was, something unreadable in his eyes before he looked back at Will. "I see. And you still believe there is a connection between the copycat and the Sutcliffe and Madchen cases?"

Will nodded, eyes imploring Dr. Lecter to not attempt to shoot him down again. He was clear headed. Well, a bit foggy at the moment. He felt warmer than before, perhaps in need of an aspirin to control anything creeping up but nothing he felt the need to see a doctor for.

"I understand. Well. What have you decided to prepare for us, Will? Or shall I be cooking to save both our pallates?" The little jab was in good humor. Will had admitted to not being the best of cooks before when Dr. Lecter had fed him.

"My kitchen is insubstantial compared to your's, Dr. Lecter, but I do have fresh groceries in the fridge. I tried to put a recipe together though I'm sure it has nothing on any of your's."

The two men entered the kitchen and Abigail looked up, looking almost relieved at the sight of Dr. Lecter. Will frowned slightly, wondering if he was perhaps making her particularly uncomfortable with the talk of murders.

"Abigail. It's good to see you've escaped once again." Dr. Lecter gave her a smile, a different kind of smile than others he offered to Will. There was a genuine warmth there.

At Will's feet the dogs were beginning to whine softly, a few trotting towards the back door. 

"I think the dogs need to go out. I'll take them out and then we can get started on dinner. I'm sure Abigail and I can put something together that won't offend you, Dr. Lecter."

"Hannibal, please. We not speaking in an official capacity." 

Will smiled, brows lifting as he tilted his head and looked down at the dogs as if they could make a comment. This was most likely a breech of a few professional boundaries but he and Hannibal had never been speaking on an official basis.

The dogs rushed out the back door around Will as he stepped out into the backyard, watching them run freely. It was relaxing to see the happy little creatures enjoying the brisk cold of the afternoon. Will smiled at them, then looked down at Winston who was looking up at him with that happy face.

His eyes lingered, and he looked back up, eyes closing as he breathed in the air. Clarity relaxed him. The presence of Dr. Lecter--Hannibal brought a sense of stability, even if the man didn't believe him. A delusion.. It had been a few days now and Will still felt confident in what he'd said in the office.

When he opened his eyes the world around him was darker. He gasped and looked around, spinning on his heel. His skin was ice cold and the dogs were waiting patiently around him, a few on the back porch. He lifted his arm and read the watch at his wrist, squinting. He'd been out here for nearly an hour without realizing it.

He looked up from his watch and the last lights of sunset seemed to glare at him, accusingly. Why hadn't Dr. Lecter or Abigail come out to find where he'd gone?

Will turned and made his way back onto the porch. The dogs followed but once reaching the porch many shied back. Winston growled by his side. He held his hand up sharply, pointing at the end of the porch for the dog to go sit and Winston obeyed.

"Hannibal, Abigail, I'm sorry, I lost track of time for a moment." He spoke as he stepped inside, leaving the door propped open. "I think I'm feeling a little more under the weather than expected, I--"

His boot slipped on the tile and he looked down. The floor was red. The sharp metallic scent of blood hit Will like a wall and he brought his hand up quickly to his nose. Where had the blood come from, where were his house guests?

Looking just a little further and he saw long black hair laying in the red puddle, leading to a pale face and wide open blue eyes, staring towards him. Empty.

"Abigail.. Abigail!" 

Will stepped through the blood and dropped to his knees beside the girl, reaching to touch her neck to check for a pulse. There was no where to place his fingers, her throat an open gash from ear to ear. Will no longer knew where to place his hands, shaking as he stared down at the body of Abigail Hobbs, lying in his kitchen.

An arm came around his neck from behind, yanking him back from the girl. He kicked out immediately, foot hitting the dead weight of the corpse as his hands flew to the arm. The person holding him was powerful, male, holding tight and cutting his air off. 

He forced his hands to let go, to reach over his head and claw at whoever was choking him. His eyes darted, the world narrowing from the black spots encroaching on his vision. What could he do? Even as he braced and tried to press the man back, he merely scooted the two of them backwards until the man braced himself.

The bark resounded through the room and never had Will been happier to seen Winston barreling towards him, even as his vision grew dark. Air rushed back into his lungs when he was released and shoved down to the side.

He gasped, hand slipping in the blood and he gulped in precious air. He heard the snarling over his shoulder and then a squeal as he moved to scramble up. 

He spun around as he found his feet, the world spinning with him as he tried to focus on where his dog was and who the attacker could be.

What he saw was Dr. Lecter yanking his knife free of the now dead Winston as he stood, eyes dark and dangerous. He had blood staining the sleeve of his shirt from where Winston had managed a bite before meeting his unfortunate end.

"Dr. Lecter?" His head was spinning out of control.

The moment of hesitation was all Dr. Lecter needed as he lunged forward again, grabbing Will by the throat and shoving him backwards, bending him down against the table until his head cracked against the wood. It dazed Will further and even as he grabbed at Lecter's arm he could feel himself being lifted again for another slam.

"Go to sleep, Will." Dr. Lecter's voice was so steady, unperturbed.

Will felt the hand release his throat and he tried to keep his grip of it as it lifted to grasp his hair now. He kicked out savagely, attempting to wedge his knee at Lecter's hip to shove him back and he was rewared with a knife to the same leg. He cried out and he could hear the click of dog nails. They sounded so loud to his ears.

Then his skull met the wood again and the world sank into blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Winston went a little grimbark didn't he? Hopefully he ascends to God Tier for his heroics.


	3. Chicken Melt with Bacon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack Crawford has some bad news and Hannibal only makes things worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize. This is filler. Its total filler. My BetaReader loves me too much to tell me nooo this is horrible. But its total filler. I'll get to something good next chapter.

"She's dead?"

This had started out as a normal day. The normal grind, patients, teaching, lunch, more work. Alana had gone to Dr. Lecter's office after the long day to share in a glass of beer, wine for him, and talk about normal things, things collegues would talk about.

Then Jack Crawford came. He stood before them now, with a look on his face that betrayed his true feelings. His words had brought a hault to everything.

"Abigail is dead?" Hannibal's voice had the same ring of disbelief in it, his hand reaching to rest on Alana's shoulder even as she sank down to sit, face held in her hand.

"It gets worse." Jack started, feeling for Alana when she lifted her head, the devastation clear on her face.

Hannibal met her eyes, hand giving a small squeeze. He could see that his collegue was distraught as it was. Could things truly get worse than losing a patient?

"We found her at Will Graham's home. Her throat was cut. Will was no where to be found. A few sets of clothes were missing..."

"What are you implying, Jack? That Will killed Abigail?" Alana scoffed and leaned back, out from under Hannibal's hand. He retracted it and tucked it behind his back.

Jack shook his head, lifting a hand. "I'm not implying anything.. but the evidence stands. His prints were on the murder weapon... Dr. Lecter? Do you have something to say?"

Hannibal's eyes had closed, his head turning slightly away. "...Yes, Will had invited me over to speak to Abigail about a possible further investigation into the Hobbs case. He told me he invited Dr. Bloom as well, but she couldn't make it. I became held up at the office as well, which I called him to let him know."

"So you were the last person to speak to Will Graham. Did he sound upset at all, agitated?"

"No, he sounded calm. He sounded confident, sure of himself." Hannibal opened his eyes, resting them on Alana, brief. they turned to Jack Crawford next. "More steady than I have heard him in some time."

Alana rubbed her hand over her forehead. There was a tremble to her fingers. "He had wanted to take Abigail to Minnesota."

Jack turned slightly away, hand lifting to press over his mouth before turning back to look at the pair of doctors before him. "So he spoke to both of you about his theory of the copycat killer?"

"He said he thought that the Sutcliffe and Madchen murders were by the same killer, that he was being set up." Alana remembered the look in his eyes. He had looked so desperate for her to believe him, to see what he could see.

Hannibal sighed, a soft noise, but one that attracted the attention of both the people sharing the room with him. Jack seemed particularly interested.

"Is there something you would like to add?"

"You may think less of me for keeping it from you." Hannibal rested his hand on the back of the chair Alana was sitting in. "Will has been a victim of many irriational thoughts lately, he had been losing time."

Jack wondered briefly at why he worked with so many intellectuals with their own agendas. "How long had this been going on?"

"He only recently started to discuss these episodes. I was trying to determine if it was trauma from the stress of the work he was doing for you or true mental illness."

Alana lifted her hand, head shaking. "Will had a fever, he was sick. He was certain that was the cause of his problems. He wouldn't have done anything to hurt Abigail Hobbs.."

Though her voice sounded unsure. Prints on the murder weapon were a hard fact to deny. Unless he'd picked up the weapon after the killer, which had happened at the Madchen case.

"Doctor, what do you mean by losing time? Could he have committed these crimes without realizing what he'd done?" Jack couldn't write it off as just a fever, not with the evidence piling up against him.

"It is possible. I believe it was a complete dissociative state he would enter. He would appear normal, but would have some confusion when he would wake from these states."

"And he could have killed Abigail Hobbs during this loss of time?"

Alana shook her head, standing. She didn't believe any of this. She could picture how pleased Will had been that his fever had broken, that his mind was clear. It was the fever that caused that state of mind, it had to have been. "He cared for Abigail, he wouldn't have killed her."

"Unless the identity he was falling into was Garret Jacob Hobbs." Hannibal supplied, drawing a look of ire from Alana. "He did say he had gotten so close to Garret Jacob Hobbs and what he had done.."

"And Hobbs intended on killing Abigail." Jack was frustrated. If Hannibal had come forward before now this could have been avoided but he couldn't blame the doctor for wanting to be sure, considering Will's unique mind. "I think he may have killed Georgia Madchen and Dr. Sutcliffe... as well as Marissa Shore and Cassie Boyle."

"Are you saying you think he's the copycat killer?" Alana sounded incredulous. This was a huge leap to go from claiming he killed one girl to being a serial killer. "What evidence do you have to that?"

Hannibal looked guilty. She noticed.

"What? What is it?"

He stepped around his desk and opened the top drawer. He produced a recorder and searched for a clip in particular before setting it on the desk, pressing play.

_"How did you feel seeing Marissa Shore impaled in his antler room?"_   
_"Guilty"_   
_"Because you couldn't save her?"_   
_"Because I felt like I killed her."_

Alana's lips pressed into a firm line and if she could have glared a hole into the desk she would have. Jack looked ill.

"I suppose now I have evidence." Jack shook his head and closed his eyes.


	4. Steak Fajita

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will awakes in a strange place feeling strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt so bad about chapter 3 that I wrote chapter 4 immediately. I hope this makes up for the filler.

Will's head felt as if it were being split open. Eggs in a pan. This is your mind on drugs. The last time he felt like this he woke in a hospital. The clink of chain told him that he wasn't so lucky. There was cold metal around his throat, the weight of a heavy lock at the back of his neck.

He moved sluggishly and shivered when he felt cold metal against a bare leg. His boots and pants were removed, as well as the shirt he'd been wearing. He was left in a t-shirt, underclothes, that was it. He felt exposed, his decidedly flimsy under things feeling less than adequete in the current circumstances.

"My name is Will Graham." He murmured as he pushed himself up. "I don't know where I am... I don't know.. what time it is... I don't know." He reached up to press the heel of his hand against one eye, brows lifting as he tried to get his head around what happened.

Hannibal Lecter had killed Abigail Hobbs. Then attacked him. Tried to kill him as well. Why was he alive now? He took stock of the room around him.

There were no windows. There was a rug adorning the floor. There was nothing else in the room. He followed where the chains went. The one around his neck was hooked onto the wall. It went up, then across the ceiling where it hung in front of the door opposite of the room. It was clipped there. 

Will stood shakily and made his way carefully across the room towards the door. The chain pulled taught approximately half way across. He was a carefully contained prisoner.

"But where... am I..." He turned, looking at the room, searching the walls, examining what he could see. Red walls.

There was a click at the door and he turned quickly, sucking in a breath. He prepared himself for what he would face and though he knew Hannibal Lecter had attacked him it was still a blow when the same man stepped into the room, carrying a plate.

"Will. I'm glad you're awake. I had begun to worry about your head injury. Are you hungry?" He lifted the plate as he approached. "I have prepared you a meal."

Will tightened his hands into fists, eyes glancing at the plate, then back up to Hanniba's face.

"You killed Abigail Hobbs."

"Did I? We seem to be remembering the night a little differently. Perhaps you would feel better if you ate something." Hannibal set the plate on the floor half way across the room, before stepping back. He stood an arm's length away from the half way point.

"I remember it just fine, I came in and Abigail was dead and you attacked me." Will wasn't hungry. He didn't approach the plate, he didn't want to put himself any closer to his psychiatrist.

Hannibal's head tilted slightly, hands lifting to tuck into his pockets. "You stepped outside. Abigail and I spoke briefly before I went in search of your lavatory. When I returned you were standing over Abigail, her throat cut. She was bleeding badly. I went to her and you returned outside without a word."

Will started shaking his head half way through Hannibal's story, his hand lifting. "No. No, I didn't kill Abigail Hobbs. You killed her. You killed her and then you attacked me."

"Will... when you came back inside I feared for my life. I reacted in that fear to protect myself." 

"You killed my _dog_..."

Hannibal sighed, shaking his head. "An unfortunate event. Your dog attacked me. I was forced to defend myself."

Will took a few steps forward, until the chain caught at his neck, pulling him up short. "Why am I here? Why am I _chained_? Did you abduct me, spirit me away to where I can't tell the truth?"

"The truth is that you killed Abigail Hobbs when you lost time. I feared for my life but I also feared for your's. I knew you were not in your right mind but Jack Crawford would not feel the same. He would have blamed you for Abigail's death and had you arrested immediately."

"That doesn't explain why there's a chain around my neck, like I'm a dog." Will grabbed a hold of it and gave it a yank, trying to pull it free from the hooks. "Or why you had an entire pully system set up already, as if you were waiting for this moment."

Hannibal was silent for a moment, examining Will.

"I wanted you to be safe, Will, but not at the cost of my safety. You are chained because you could attack me at any moment. Your chain will remain there until I feel safe."

Will noted that he didn't explain where the pully system had come from. Hannibal was hiding something from him. He knew he didn't kill Abigail Hobbs, he couldn't have. He didn't have any blood on him when he'd come back into the house, there would have been blood on him surely... But when Garret Jacob Hobbs had cut her throat the blood sprayed outwards. He wouldn't necessarily have been bloodied.

"Where are my clothes?"

"Destroyed. There was blood on the sleeves. I have extras if you are in need of something. You may want to change. You've been in those clothes for a few days now."

"Days?" Will lifted his hand, trying to put a pause on this flow of information. "Did you say days?"

Hannibal nodded, shifting his weight. "Yes. This isn't the first time we've spoken. Before you were quite out of your mind, muttering things and refusing to eat."

That had to be impossible. He would have remembered. It was because of the fever that he had been losing time, not due to mental illness. He knew this to be true, it was a fact he held on to remind himself that everything was okay.

"You're keeping me here as a prisoner, you killed Abigail Hobbs, you're insane."

"You're safe here, Will. I will not turn you into the authorities. You're struggling with a severe mental illness and I do not wish to see my friend be arrested when he's not in his right mind."

Will reached up, grabbing at the chain before rubbing his hand over his face, feeling the thicker beard. Beard. It wasn't his stubble. He grasped at his face, then pushed his hand through his hair, gripping the curls and turning his head away. He wracked his mind. Days...

"Take this chain off of me."

"I can't do that Will." Hannibal shook his head shortly. "You are unwell and until I can ascertain the diagonsis for your illness I will keep you here."

"And what about Jack Crawford?" Will waved his hand sharply. "What about Abigail Hobbs, does she get no justice for what happened? What's to become of me? Am I going to be trapped here until I'm well? Then what?"

"Will.. At great risk to my career and my life I have chosen to assist you. I have made this decision knowing full well there may be no coming back from it, because you are my friend. Because I only wish the best for you."

"I didn't ask you to do this for me."

"You didn't have to." Hannibal motioned to the plate. "I'd like you to eat something, if you can."

Will glanced at the plate, then looked back up at Hannibal. "If I asked you to take me to Jack Crawford... to let me turn myself in... Will you let me do that?"

Hannibal smiled. "I would be implicating myself as well, would I not? This is as much protection for myself now as it is for you. If I take you to turn yourself in how can I be certain that they will not arrest me as well?"

"I won't tell them you took me in. I won't tell them that you kept me here, I'll keep it to myself. I can protect you from that much for what you've done for me. I can't not turn myself in, Dr. Lecter."

"Of course you can. I have chosen not to turn myself in for many years, since my childhood."

Will's stomach dropped and the world went cold. "What do you mean turn yourself in?"

Hannibal was pleased by the reaction, that much was clear in his face. "Your murder of Abigail Hobbs was sloppy. The work of a man gone mad but I believe you enjoyed it. You had such a smile on your face I would have been beside myself to take that moment from you by turning you into the authorities."

"Dr. Lecter... what did you _mean_?"

"Please. Eat something. I would hate to see your dog go to waste." Hannibal turned to open the door and step out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, the true culprit is obviously Alana Bloom. If only Will went to Minnesota!


	5. Barbecue Chicken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana feels a bit of guilt and Freddie feels a bit intrepid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really bored right now, so you guys can have more of this.

Alana shuffled her papers on the desk, as the students filed out. She felt drained. Everything had happened so quickly after that conversation with Jack. A bolo had been put out, they were all searching for Will. She was still unsure how she felt. 

He had been her friend, a love interest, if only he were more stable. Her practicality betraying her in that aspect. She had wanted nothing more than to give him the relationship he wanted but she had to protect herself. Now she felt like a fool. The reason could be one of two, or perhaps both. Perhaps she could have stopped more killing from happening or perhaps.. She just felt stupid.

Will Graham was a murderer. Evidence pointed to him, solid evidence, that he killed Abigail Hobbs. Circumstantial evidence pointed to him as being the killer of Cassie Boyle, Marissa Shore, Dr. Sutcliffe and Georgia Madchen. He was a serial killer who pranced in front of the police like a reindeer on that snowy night in December.

And she had been his friend. She believed in him, supported him, cared for him and she hadn't seen any of it. She supposed that was the nature of his mental illness. That even he wasn't sure, that he was confused and didn't know what he was doing himself. At least, that was what Hannibal had said.

"Dr. Bloom?" 

Alana looked up, and an immediate frown marred her pretty face. "What do you want, Miss Lounds?"

The fox-faced redhead smiled patiently, folding her hands before her. "A comment, maybe? I'm here to ask about Will Graham.. And the murders he committed.."

"I have no interest in talking to the press. Especially if that press is you, Miss Lounds."

"I've heard he's linked to four more murders outside of Abigail Hobbs... who was the true victim of Garret Jacob Hobbs... Is this anything to do with the copycat killer?"

Alana gathered her things, a little haphazardly and started to walk out of the room. Freddie Lounds simply fell in step just behind her, clearly not ready to give it up.

"You were close to Will Graham, weren't you? You worked with him for some time... Some would say it could possibly be a romantic connection.."

"My relationship with Will Graham was professional." She heard herself answering. It was better to answer certain questions than to let her just write whatever she desired. Of course, Lounds might end up writing what she wanted anyway.

"How did you, a great psychatrist in your own right, miss the signs of psychopathy in Will Graham? Something that a mere reporter like myself picked up on right away." 

Freddie stopped short when Alana did, that small smile on her face as the other woman turned to face her, looking stormy faced.

"Will Graham is mentally ill. Whatever he may or may not have done was outside of his control. Until we actually find Will Graham or any evidence to connect him to any more murders I would say he's innocent until proven guilty."

Freddie smiled a little wider. "But hasn't he already been proven guilty by the evidence found at Abigail Hobbs's murder..? Which happened to be at his own home?"

Alana's nostrals flaired in agitation. "That hasn't been proven in the court of law."

She spun on her heel and continued her pointed storm out, feeling that same knot of upset in her chest. She felt betrayed. Honestly betrayed. She knew that Will was sick but it was hard not to feel betrayed when it was her patient with the open throat.

"Its hard to judge the actions of the mentally ill, isn't it?" Freddie wouldn't let up, just following her along. "Even as a psychiatrist, you couldn't have predicted this behavior. It must be like a stab in the back. Or perhaps people might start thinking you were involved... Helping Will Graham hide who he was..."

"That's quite a reach, Miss Lounds, even for you. I suggest finding someone else to bother if you're looking to get a story about Will Graham, I'm not interested in speaking with you."

"Oh but you already gave me plenty." The words caused Alana to stop and turn, looking at her again. "I hope you have a better day. You seem upset. You really should take time to relax, Dr. Bloom." 

Freddie had the audacity to gently rest her hand on Alana's arm before walking away. She passed Hannibal Lecter as he was approaching, and took a moment to pause. 

"Dr. Lecter... We really must make an appointment in the future. I'd like to talk to you about Will Graham..."

"Unfortunately for you I am still bound by doctor-patient priviledge. I apologize I cannot give you anything for your stories." He offered her the briefest of smiles before bidding her farewell and continuing towards Alana.

"Alana. You're looking unhappy today."

Alana sighed and adjusted her bag on her shoulder. "An unfortunate side effect of dealing with Freddie Lounds. How are you?"

"I am doing well, or as well as I could hope. Has Jack Crawford come to you with any more information on Will Graham?"

"No, he hasn't. I hope you didn't drive out here simply for that. I'm sure Jack would have called you as well.. or it would at least be all over the news." Which was a sorry way for news to get around these days. The media could be a complete joke, especially when it was headed by Freddie Lounds.

Hannibal offered his arm to Alana, and she smiled softly, accepting it. It was such a gentlemanly thing to do.

"I actually came to just see you. I have been worried about you, Alana. I understand that you must have taken the news of Will Graham's fall from grace very hard."

"Funny, I was worrying about you as well. Freddie Lounds is going to want to ask you how could you have not seen this was going to happen, considering all of the problems Will has been going through."

Hannibal reached to hold the door for Alana, guiding her through. "I accept the responsibility I held in what happened. I should have come forward sooner about my concerns for Will's mental health. Instead I wanted to be sure before saying anything. My choices have resulted in the death of Abigail Hobbs, and perhaps more."

Alana shook her head, her hand giving Hannibal's arm a small squeeze. "You can't blame yourself. You were doing what you thought was right by your patient and by your friend."

Though she couldn't say she would have done the same thing. She had worried about Will's mental state from the first day he met Jack Crawford and was drawn into this mess of murders and psychopaths. He had been a good teacher, a fine man, and then Garret Jacob Hobbs happened and things started going down hill. Perhaps if he'd stayed on as a teacher things would have been different.

"Allow me to treat you to lunch. It is the least I can do for you." Hannibal motioned towards the parking lot where he had brought food, of course his own cooking, for them to partake in. He simply needed to fetch it.

"Its starting to sound more like a date than a simple friendly concern." Alana's smile was more real now, having the opening to tease.

Hannibal returned it. "It is only natural that when experiencing a similar trauma that one would seek the comfort of their companion. If you would like to think of it as a date then we can considering it long over due considering the rumors that have circled about us in the past."

Her laugh sounded strange to her ears, considering she hadn't laughed in more than a week now. "Oh those rumors again."

The memory of him asking her why they didn't get together echoed in her mind and she couldn't help but wonder again. He was inviting her to take this as a date if she desired which mean he was open to the idea but it almost seemed cold. Treading on the memory of Will's kiss. 

She stopped beside his car and relinquished his arm as he went to fetch the food, watching him. He was the infalliable Dr. Lecter, made reachable by his relationship with Will Graham. Now that relationship was tarnished and Dr. Lecter was reaching out to the people that were involved. Like he was reaching for a life line in the mess but couldn't bring himself to admit it.

"Hannibal... Why did you really bring me lunch today? Was it just because you were concerned about me or was there really another reason?"

Hannibal paused, holding the handles of the cloth bag gently in his hand. He stood and leaned his arm against the car, looking over the top of it at Alana.

"I suppose... I am searching for someone to share in my pain with. I have made grave mistakes which have lead to the deaths of innocent people. I know that I am not the only one who didn't see it in time, though I am the worse culprit. Perhaps I am just trying to achieve a level of normalcy by interacting with the people I consider friends."

"You said deaths. Do you think Will killed those other people as well?"

There was a silence between them. Hannibal gazed at her with that even stare he leveled on his patients, the way he examined them without revealing too much of himself.

"Don't you?"

Alana had to admit that the evidence, circumstantial as it was, was piled high. It wasn't just a good chance, it was a borderline fact. As much as she didn't want it to be true her heart had come to know it to be the truth.

"I do. I think.. we failed Will in many ways but the truth is there. He killed those people. The only thing we can do now is stop him.. and perhaps save what's left of his mind." She felt a burning in her eyes as she openly admitted to what had come to be in her heart.

Hannibal stepped around the car after closing it, setting the bag onto the ground before gently pulling Alana into a loose embrace. 

"Alana, it is not your fault. The only one who is truly at fault for what has happened is myself."

She closed her eyes and used her one free arm to give a small returning embrace. It was unusual to get such contact from Hannibal, only Abigail had seemed to gain this type of reaction from him. She supposed if this were on any other topic she would have felt a little special.

"Its as much my fault as it is your's or Jack Crawford's. We all missed the signs. It took Abigail's death for us to see. Perhaps Will finally saw as well. We can only hope that he doesn't kill again before we can catch him."

Hannibal held her shoulders, before releasing her and picking up the bag. "Shall we find somehwere to sit and perhaps find lighter topics to speak of?" He offered his arm to her again.

Alana smiled at him, reaching up to brush her hair back from her face before taking his arm again. "This doesn't count as a real date, Hannibal. I require proper wining and dining for that. I especially enjoy French cuisine."

"I know, which is why I have prepared you a French meal today. I will have to ask you in the future if you'd like to accompany me to a proper restaurant."

"Hannibal Lecter at a restaurant? You're really trying to give a girl the full experience aren't you? I don't think I could take any cooking that is less than your's for a proper date."

Hannibal chuckled, shaking his head. "I thought perhaps you would enjoy a normal experience, but you are welcome to my home any time. I would be happy to cook for you."

"And I would be happy to eat what you cook, Hannibal. Is this an official asking?"

He took a moment to think, before looking down at her with a warm smile that might have been reserved for Abigail before. "Yes. Perhaps it is."

Alana looked absolutely pleased. It was possible she was just seeking companionship to balance out the depression she could feel biting at her heels over Will Graham but a friendly banter over a nice dinner with an attractive man might be good for her. Get her mind off of lingering memories of kisses before an opened fireplace.


	6. Supreme Calzone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will, grrl, you iz filthy. Hannibal establishes control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Ivy_B for reminding me I already gashed Will up a bit. I love intrepid young readers! They make delicious pot pie.

There was a dog licking his fingers. He lifted his hand and rested it on the soft muzzle. "Not now, Winston..." 

The dog whined softly and Will's hand traveled up to touch the top of his head, to give a little pet. The skull was wet, there was something jammed in. Will pulled it free and lifted the blade over his head, driving it down again and again, blood and brain matter spattering up against him.

Blood everywhere. There was blood.. Abigail was gasping for air, reaching up for his face, her voice strangled, blue eyes so wide and terrified and--

Will jerked awake, hand slipping in sweat as he sat up quickly from the floor. He'd tossed and turned himself to the edge of the rug. There was sweat matting his clothes to his back and chest and the world felt crushing in. The pain from his leg wound was noticeable now, the gash throbbing beneath the old wrapping. There was no medication buffering the pain, no adrenaline helping him ignore it.

He was sure he'd been losing time again. He was certain that there was something in the room with him. He could hear it in the walls. The fever had slowly returned, wrapping itself around his mind and drawing out the nightmares. He dreamed of Abigail, of his dog, of Hannibal with a red glint to his eye choking him over a table, moving him like a puppeteer would move his favorite toy.

The door handled rattled and Will pushed himself off the rug and into the corner. The click of well made shoes filled the room then the tell tale click of a plate being set on the floor. Food that he had no intention on eating. Will didn't trust what it wasn't his dogs and he hadn't been quite desperate enough to risk it.

Hannibal looked him over with that examining, curious gaze. He didn't say anything, they hadn't shared words for a few days now. There was silence between them before Hannibal cleared his throat and motioned to the plate. "Brandied roast goose. A French recipe. I hope you enjoy it."

The man turned and stepped from the room and silence fell again.

Will stayed there for some time, eyes staring at the plate of food and his stomach growled in the quiet. Maybe it was time to eat something.

He crawled towards the plate of food and picked up the spoon that had been left for him. It didn't look like dog. He didn't know what dog meat looked like. He was starving and he devoured the plate of food, taking little time to appreciate the skilled cooking that went into it. He simply needed something on his belly before he felt even worse.

The world spun even worse when he returned to his corner, head pressing against the wall as he tried to control his trembling. He heard the door and tensed, hands coming up to cover one chilled shoulder. He could almost see something in the opposite corner staring back at him. When he squinted it faded from his view but he knew there was something there. 

The door opened again, fifteen minutes later.

"Will, how are you feeling?"

Will startled at the voice, not expecting the question. The world seemed.. darker, narrowed. He turned, his hand bracing against the floor as he blinked hard, trying to get his bearings. "... Did you drug me?"

Hannibal approached him, standing over him, within arm's length. Will prepared himself to lunge but the world was spinning. He winced back when Hannibal reached down and pressed a cool hand to his forehead.

"You have a fever. I see you ate your meal."

"You.." Will tried to brush off the hand.

The doctor pulled Will forward by his shoulder, pulling a set of keys from his pocket and unlocking the chain from his neck. 

"I have given you a sedative so that we don't have a disagreement while I'm taking care of you." He pulled Will's arm around his neck and hefted him up.

"You drugged me." Will responded dumbly, having trouble getting his feet under him. He shouldn't have been as surprised as he was. Hannibal was willing to keep him in what could only be a basement, chained by the neck like a dog.

He heard the whine from the corner and when he looked over his shoulder he saw the limping bloodied form of a dog following them. He felt panicked and he tried to turn around but Hannibal's arm was firm around his waist now, the other hand holding Will's arm over his neck as he half carried the man from the room.

The next room was clearly a normal basement, with wine racks along one wall. There was little else, besides smatterings of storage.

There was a full bathroom in the basement that Will was taken to. Inside it was non descript. Nothing that seemed... Hannibal. This was a utilitarian, basic, ignored room of the house. The only indication Will had seen that this was Hannibal's home was the wine racks. Where else would he be? That meant he knew where he was.

That meant he could get away if he had the chance.

Hannibal sat Will on the toilet for the moment, taking the time to roll his sleeves. "It has been a few days since I've had a look at your injury. You are looking worse for wear as well."

Will could hear the dog scratching at the door and he stared at it, eye lids drooping. "... Is that one of my dogs..."

"It is 3:22 pm. Your name is Will Graham. You're experiencing a hallucination." Hannibal reached to pull Will's face back by his scruffy chin. "I need you to focus on me now, Will."

Hannibal's face blurred before Will's eyes and he thought he saw Jack Crawford, for a split second. "...3:22..."

The doctor turned away and went to the wide bathroom counter where supplies had been laid out. The first thing he fetched was the thermometer and he turned to press it into Will's ear, holding his head still with one hand. It beeped after a few seconds and Hannibal checked it wordlessly before turning to open a few bottles. 

Will listened to the rattle, leaning slowly to the side. He started to sink off of the toilet when Hannibal caught him, righting him back up. 

"Will, I need you to take these pills." 

Will took the offered pills into his hand and he stared at them as if they were tiny multicolored aliens. His mind happily took off with that thought and he could swear they were trying to crawl away off his hands.

"Will."

He looked up at Hannibal, seeing the man's face clearly for only a second before it seemed to crack before him. "...what are these..."

"They will help with your fever." Hannibal knelt down next to Will, using a pair of scissors to cut away the dressing over the wound on Will's leg. 

The gash was stitched neatly. It was healing nicely, though was a bit red around the edges from being trapped under the increasingly filthy bandage. Hannibal almost looked relieved that he'd removed the bandage in time. Will committed tiny alien genocide as he dry swallowed the pills.

Hannibal stepped away from Will for a moment, starting a bath. Will watched for a moment before turning his head to look at the counter before him. There was the pair of scissors. If he could just grab the scissors...

He reached out, tipping forward slightly and he grasped the scissors in his hand. He gripped the tiny things tightly, bracing against the counter to turn quickly and stab at the doctor. It was clumsy but it was an attempt.

Failed, of course. Hannibal grabbed Will's arm and spun him around, wrapping his arm around his neck and cutting the blood off. Will jerked and struggled feebly for a moment, but Hannibal held until his struggles stopped and he lowered Will to the floor. 

When Will felt a small slap to his face to wake him up he was propped against the tub and lacking clothing. 

"I don't wish to submerge your wound for very long so I must insist on your cooperation."

Will blinked hard, trying to get the stars from out in front of his eyes, feeling himself nod dumbly in response. It was easier to just agree and let things happen. He let himself be manhandled up and then down into the hot water, wincing at the temperature.

Hannibal took his time, scrubbing the sweat and grime from Will's skin with a careful hand. It was almost soothing, the steam rising and coaxing Will into a doze. At least until Hannibal's hand dipped below the waist and between his legs.

Will jerked, grabbing Hannibal's wrist tightly. Hannibal's response was to lift his hand away and press his forearm against Will's throat again, holding him there firmly. Will reacted a little more violently this time, kicking out and pulling at the arm pressing him against the cold tile of the tub wall. 

"I thought we had agreed you would be cooperating, Will." 

"Don't touch me." Will's voice was strained.

"I have already been touching you. We are both men, are we not? Let's be mature about this." Hannibal ignored Will's continued struggles, holding him there until the combination of fever and sedative calmed him down. The second dose certainly helped, Will's eyes slowly drooping further and further.

Blackness took him again and he woke when he felt cold, the bathtub empty and Hannibal looming over him with a towel. The terry cloth was dropped down over his body and then wrapped around as Hannibal hefted him up out of the porcelain prison, half dragging him out onto the floor. Will felt this was a perfect moment to nod off again now that he was wrapped in a fluffy towel.

The third time his eyes opened he saw a straight razor very close to his face. Internally he screamed and he lurched his head away from it, feeling a brief sting on his cheek.

"I keep my blades very sharp, you would do well to hold still." Hannibal's voice was like thunder to him, it was so close.

Will responded by letting his head drop back down. He was still awake, but barely. He felt Hannibal pull his head up and hold it into proper position as the razor moved over his skin, freeing him from the confines of a too thick beard and giving him a cleaner shave than he bothered with in his daily life.

His face was wiped clean and his head was allowed to loll for a few minutes as Hannibal tinkered around him. Will's eyes opened sluggishly and he watched as Hannibal stepped over a splayed leg to open the bathroom door. He grabbed at the doctor's pant leg and Hannibal gave a small shake to gently dislodge him.

Out in the darkness of the basement Will was sure something was breathing. Watching him. He stared bleary eyed out and he saw the thing approaching, a slow limping movement. When he blinked it just came closer and he felt a knot of fear in his chest. He couldn't get away. His muscles wouldn't move.

Then Hannibal's legs were blocking the way to the door. The man bent and pulled Will up, hefting him over one shoulder like a sack of grain. The whole thing just made Will feel a little ill.

He was carried back to the empty room and deposited on the rug. He laid there silently until he dozed off again.

He was unsure for how long he slept but he rose out of the sedated sleep like one would swim from the bottom of a pool. He broke free of it and opened his eyes. He was dressed and laid on a bed, a blanket laid gently over him. The chain had been replaced around his neck and there was a plate of food set on the floor again.

He sat up, pulling in a breath. He wondered how long he'd been asleep. 3:22 was the last time he had. He had no indicator as to what time it was now, just the same dim light. The only change to his room that he could tell was that now he had been gifted a bed. He lurched out of said bed and walked to were the plate of food was. He knelt down and picked it up, plucking the little folded note card off the edge of it.

He returned to the bed and sat down, opening it.

_"Chateaubriand"_

It could have been dog.

Will ate it anyway.


	7. Beef Taco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana and Hannibal share a few stories over dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter made me hungry.

"Its called the Aristocrats." Alana said behind a chuckle.

Hannibal was chuckling himself, pointing lightly at her with his fork. "Ah, I was wondering. I don't make it to many comedic performances."

"Mm, you're missing out, I promise." She picked up her glass and took a sip of beer. She decided to be a little classier and pour it into a wine glass, much to Hannibal's amusement. 

The meal had been exquisite. She expected nothing less from Hannibal Lecter. Lyonnaise steak, with potatoes, a nice meal that settled neatly into her stomach like a pleased cat would a box. She wasn't sure if she could eat another bite but Hannibal had promised dessert and no one in their right mind would pass up Hannibal's cooking.

"So, Hannibal... Now that we've gotten through the pleasentries of patients and long hard days and bad joking.." She set her glass down, drawing her lips in for a moment to taste the lingering touches of the well made beer. "How about we go a little more personal."

Hannibal set his own glass down, tasting his own lips before moving to stand. "I'll get us dessert, while you ask what I can see you are dying to ask."

Alana smiled, watching the man stand to fetch whatever exotic thing from the kitchen. "Where are you from..? And don't say Baltimore. That accent betrays you and I've never asked."

"Lithuania is my home country." He returned with a dressed plate and set it before her. "Cardamom pear sorbet. Please, enjoy." He set his own plate down and settled. "I am not one to partake in many sweets but when I have a guest I enjoy making a complete meal."

"Did you grow up in the country or in the city?" She picked up her spoon, almost watering at the mouth at the sight of yet another attractive course. 

"The countryside." He took a bite, taking a moment to savor. "Though I moved to the city when I grew older."

"Any siblings?"

"One."

There wasn't any added information. Alana didn't ask him to expand. She could sense a closed topic. The last thing she wanted was to press boundaries that he wasn't prepare for her to cross. 

"You're welcome to ask me questions in turn, Hannibal." She smiled at him, not wanting this to become a one sided information excavation.

Hannibal smiled at her, his spoon clicking against the delicate plate. "I'll ask the same question of you... Siblings?"

"Two." She even held up two fingers as if to confirm it. "I'm the oldest of three. I would ask you your hobbies but I've seen your drawings and I've noticed the harpsicord in your office. Do you play or is it decoration?"

"It would be a true waste to own such a piece and not be able to play it. I should like to play for you some day." Hannibal's eyes were on his plate. "Do you prefer psychiatry or teaching?"

"Those are two completely different animals, though similar in some ways. Both are enlightening minds.. I suppose teaching is safer. I haven' t had a patient attack me but I do understand the risks."

Hannibal nodded, picking up his glass of wine. "Psychiatry comes with great risks, though I've found my greatest challenge being the mental."

Alana nodded, agreeing. She knew Hannibal had lost a patient to death and another to madness. Thinking of Will Graham even briefly brought a dull ache to her heart and she forged passed it quickly.

"Why haven't you settled down, Hannibal? You have a solid practice, you're an attractive man." She gave him a little look over, just to make her point a little more solid.

Hannibal took it with his usual grace, smiling at her. "Perhaps it is due to my choice in professions. I was a surgeon before I was a psychiatrist, and both involve dedicating much of yourself to your practice." He laid his spoon over his plate. "Or it is more likely that I am fiercely private and the thought of sharing so much with another person is daunting."

"I'm not entirely surprised by that. I think all psychiatrists have learned to close up when it comes to other people. I found it a little difficult to separate my professional life from my personal life when it came to Will and my professionalism won out." She shouldn't be talking about Will here. "I may regret that a little bit."

Thankfully Hannibal was nodding with her. "I fear I may have done the opposite. I allowed my personal emotions to get in the way of my professional judgment."

There was a silence between them, then the clink of plates as Hannibal rose and gathered the empty dishes. Alana finished her glass and stood, taking both glasses out to the kitchen to give a hand to her kind cook. 

"What happened with Will Graham will loom over us for some time. It will certainly tain my reputation." Hannibal sighed through his nose. "Such things cannot be helped now that they have already happened."

"Hannibal." Alana rested her hand gently on his arm. "Leave the dishes."

She managed to free him from the suds and she towel dried his hands herself. She set the towel aside and grasped both of Hannibal's hands in her own.

"It speaks volumes how hard you're taking what happened with Will but neither of us are at fault for whatever crimes he committed. We're not infallible. _You're_ not infallible."

Hannibal gave her an even gaze, as if he were peering into her soul. He reached up with a gentle hand and cupped her cheek. "Do you still harbor feelings for Will Graham?"

"I would be lying if I said I didn't." She looked down, her head shaking once. "But they're emotions that I can get passed. If I ever see him again I don't doubt that I might cause him some bodily harm."

She could hear the smile in Hannibal's voice. "I am sure that your patient would appreciate your desires to commit acts of revenge on her behalf."

She looked up at him, frowning. "Abigail. She was more than just my patient. To you as well, I thought."

Hannibal's smile faded and he gave a short nod. "She was a good girl. A sweet girl. She had such potential ahead of her. It's a sorry thing her actions cut that potential short.

"Will was the one who cut her potential short. I'm more than certain she was being used by her father. I wouldn't doubt that Garret Jacob Hobbs strong armed her into working with him. If only we could have spoken to her at length."

Hannibal's head tilted slightly and his eyes flickered to the side. It was obvious to her that he didn't wholly agree with her. It was natural that they would side with their respective patients. She just found it a little more difficult to side with the one who had actively used a knife on a woman.

"What do you think should happen to Will? They haven't found any more evidence to link him to the other four murders but I think Jack is still intending on charging him with them.."

"I think Will needs psychiatric help more than prison." Hannibal rested his hand on Alana's back, guiding her towards his living room. "And I think this topic is rather dark. Let us find something lighter to speak of as the evening wears on."

Alana sat down on one end of the couch and Hannibal took the other. She kept her body language open, curling her legs on the soft microfiber while he faced towards the fireplace, his legs crossed, arm over the back of the couch. She wondered if she could coax him into turning towards her as the conversation continued.

"Something lighter... When was your last relationship? How long of a dry spell am I looking at here?"

"Ah, you are very quick to go for the personal questions." There was mirth in his eyes. "My last relationship was six years ago, and it was quite short lived."

"Oh? Why did it end?" 

"She didn't like my cooking." Hannibal's smile was a little crooked, clearly amused at the memory.

Alana looked absolutely aghast. How could anyone not enjoy Hannibal's cooking? It was a shock. "What a tasteless cow."

"I am inclined to agree. And you?"

She picked lightly at the back of the couch, tilting her head. "Outside of Will, which I wouldn't call a relationship... Two years." She held up her fingers again, nodding to herself. "Two.. long years. I can't imagine six."

Hannibal shifted, turning a little further towards her, opening himself up a little. "What made you choose psychiatry?"

"My aunt." She opened her hand, as if presenting her words for Hannibal to see. "She was a good woman, but suffered from bipolar. Her good woman could go in a snap." She snapped her fingers to show how quick.

"Bipolar is a delicate condition. I've dealt with a few patients suffering from it, both on treatment and off. Did you hope to cure her?"

Alana shook her finger at him. "That... I did, when I was young. I was so sure I could find the cure to all mental illness if I could just get my fingers into it but the more I learned the more I realized that a cure was distant dream, one that might never be achieved."

"You too, Hannibal, why did you change from surgeon to psychiatrist?"

Hannibal thought for a moment, seeming to roll his answer around in his head. Alana took the time to examin the lines of his face, taking him in a little differently than when she looked at him before. He turned his head just so to look at her, catching her eye and they held for a moment before she felt a sheepish smile touch her expression.

"I became more fascinated with the mind than with the body. There are many surgeons who could achieve what I could, but I hoped to be a psychiatrist that could bring hope to those who struggled with their illnesses."

He inclined his head slightly towards her, his expression welcoming. "I don't mind if you look at me."

Alana could feel a warmth rising up her neck and she waved her hand quickly. "I promise, I'm not objectifying you. I'm just looking at you under the 'not-collegue' light."

"And what do you see?"

"Oh you want me to analyze you?" Alana shifted, lacing her fingers together as she set one elbow over the back of the couch. "Well let me see... You're a confident, well off man, who understands his personal taste and you compromises it for no one. You care more than you let on, though its very difficult to tell. You're very controlled, even distant."

Hannibal listened patiently, his posture shifting to face her openly, knee propping up on the couch. The stiff pretense has melted away as she spoke, giving her a glimpse of a far more relaxed Hannibal than even dinner had provided. It gave her a sense of pride that he felt he could relax in her presence.

"Have I been distant to you tonight?" His voice held a sincere curiosity.

"No... No you've been very open. It's been an interesting change of pace, for sure. So what do you see when you analyze me?"

"A strong woman.You care quite a bit about your patients and as for your collegues you struggle to curtail your professional curiosities when in the presence of people you find interesting." He pointed at her, motioning towards the line of her body. "You broadcast your actions more than you think. For instance, you took note of my body language when you sat down and you seemed pleased when I turned to face you."

Alana looked down at herself, then back up at Hannibal, feeling that warmth on her neck again. "I've been caught. I didn't realize I was being that obvious though I won't apologize for feeling pleased at you opening up to me. I have a feeling you don't open up that often."

"Only to my psychiatrist and even then to an extent."

"You go to a psychiatrist?" Alana lifted her brows, looking surprised. "Do you find yourself to be a little imbalanced?"

Hannibal tilted his head. "Do you find yourself to be in complete balance?"

He had a point. In their line of work it was difficult to be fully balanced. Professionalism was in constant war with personal emotions and the observer role was a difficult one to fulfill.

Alana looked towards the empty fireplace, rubbing her fingers together gently. "I feel like I've only just scratched the surface of the man called Hannibal Lecter even after knowing you for all this time."

"A perfect excuse for a second date."

She gave him a smirk, clearly amused by him. He returned the smile, extending his hand across the back of the couch to gently nudge against her's. 

"Why exactly did we not do this sooner..?" Alana laid her hand over the back, on top of Hannibal's. 

"Professionalism in the workplace I would imagine."

Both of them chuckled and Alana ended it with a long depressed sigh as she glanced at the mantle clock. "Its getting late. As much as I'd love to stay up and chat I'm sure we both have work to take care of in the morning. Ah, responsibilities."

Hannibal stood first, offering his hand to her to help her to her feet. "I will walk you to the door. I thank you for coming over tonight and indulging me."

"If indulging you means meals like that then I think I would be happy to indulge you every night of the week." Alana let Hannibal help her into her coat, turning to look at him. "Thank you for the lovely evening, Hannibal, truly."

There was a pause, that moment of silence when they both contemplated how the evening would end. Hannibal moved first, leaning down the short distance to press a small kiss to the corner of her mouth. Alana turned her head, diverting the more proper kiss into something more solid. She wouldn't have him denying how the evening ended the next time they spoke.

He opened the door for her when they broke apart and he smiled at her. "It was my pleasure." 

Alana couldn't keep the smile from her face as she stepped out into the cold, reaching up to brush her hair back behind her ear. She waved at him after she was in the car, as Hannibal remained on the porch until she was safely inside her vehicle. How charming. 

It certainly was washing clean the memory of the last relationship that almost budded.


	8. Bruschetta Chicken Panini

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal experiments with Will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omigerhd, over 1000 views! Thank you all for visiting me! Hannibal was fighting me the whole way, he would have much rather nibble on some loin of flight attendant instead of working with me.

"If you feel the need to pleasure yourself for relief then do not feel embarrassed to do so." Hannibal brushed a little piece of lint off his pant leg before grasping his fingers around his knee again, looking up at Will.

Will kept his hands hovered over his lap, legs crossed and knees tipped up in an attempt to keep himself covered. He was shaking, sweat beading on his forehead and his body was betraying him by being happily at attention. He didn't know what Hannibal had given him but it was far more embarrassing than a sedative for a bath.

"Or I could do it for you."

"Why did you take my clothes?" Will spoke over Hannibal, jaw tight with discomfort.

"You swore at me after I asked you not to." Hannibal's voice was calm.

"Are you fucking--Because I _swore_?" His body's tension was making his emotions even more tense than they already were.

Hannibal sighed, shaking his head. "You become very rude when you're afraid, Will."

Will tipped his knees closer, lowering his head as he shuddered. He'd been relieved of his clothes and of his mattress almost as soon as he'd gotten them, being left with nothing. He had no choice in what food he could have and it resulted in him swallowing down something that had left him aroused and tactile sensitive. 

"What did you give me?"

"Sildenafil citrate." Hannibal tilted his head, trying to catch sigh of Will's eyes.

He deftly avoided the other man's face, rocking slightly back and pulling in a breath. "You gave me Viagra?"

"Yes. I was curious."

Will shook his head quickly, glaring at the spot between Hannibal's eyes but only briefly. He was riled, toes curling as he kept himself locked up, covering as much as he could with his limbs. 

Hannibal uncrossed his legs then recrossed them, getting comfortable. "Your name is Will Graham. Its 6:03 pm..."

"I don't need your therapy lessons, Dr. Lecter, I've come to realize your version of psychological help isn't in my best interest." 

"I can be a very patient man." 

It just frustrated Will further when it was clear that Hannibal wasn't going to leave. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out, focusing on that. Embarrassment wasn't the worst thing that could be happening to him. He wasn't sedated out of his mind. His fever had been wrestled back down. This too would pass. Hannibal would lose interest.

He heard Hannibal get up and he opened that meant his hopes were coming true. It seemed unlikely but perhaps one little relief would happen today.

He heard the sound of the chain being grabbed then the loud noise of it being yanked through the pully. Will's eyes snapped open and he looked up, watching as his length of chain was quickly dissipating across the ceiling of the room. He turned and grabbed for it, scrambling to get a hold before it was jerked out of his hands.

He was more or less dragged across the room until he managed to get his feet under him and give a hard jerk to combat Hannibal. The older man wasn't drugged, wasn't tired. He gave another firm yank and caused Will to stumble forward. He heard a snap and he looked over his shoulder, seeing that he was now clipped in with far less chain to work with.

Hannibal adjusted his waistcoat and tucked his hands behind his back, looking across the room at Will. He strode towards Will's side of the room, stepping into the new space that he had safe access to. Will was now trapped in half the space he'd been in before, only having a quarter of the room to reach.

"You are a strong man, Will, but even strong men need to be aware of when they need help."

"I don't need your brand of help." He wanted to cover himself with his hands but he kept them on the chain. 

"You killed Abigail Hobbs. I am the only one who can help you."

"I didn't kill Abigail!" Will's voice pitched upwards into a shout, loud enough to even startle himself, his world spinning. 

Hannibal made a tut tut noise at him and turned away, returning to his side of the room. "Perhaps you need more time to yourself, Will." 

Will was thankful when he was left alone. He sank down to the floor and let out a whoosh of air. He rubbed his hands over his face and shivered at how his hair felt to his hands, the roughness of his face. Hannibal seemed to be content with observing. For that he was grateful.

He looked down between his legs at the offending erection, feeling betrayed. His own body was so easily manipulated and taken out of his control. The only thing he really had hold of was his mind. He thought briefly about relieving himself. Hannibal would most likely notice. It would be giving in to the drug he was given.

He sat down on the rug instead, crossing his legs and gripping his knees. He wasn't going to fold. He felt acutely lonely in here, an emotion he dealt with often. The world seemed fuzzy, the rug fibers soft, the sound of silence loud. He thought if he listened closely enough he could hear Hannibal upstairs, in his kitchen, puttering around, except he'd never been able to hear anything. He doubted anyone could hear him either.

He shifted back against the cool wall, tilting his head back and breathing. When he was alone like this he could spend his time thinking. Conjuring up images in his mind. His favorite memories were of his dogs, the way they were always happy to see him. Of Alana's lips and how they felt when he'd kissed her. 

Did Alana believe he killed Abigail Hobbs? If she did, did that mean she hated him? It was her patient, the one she was most protective of. He could imagine her hating him. He could imagine her crying as she shoved him, slapped him, demanded to know why he did it. Would she strike him? Or would she just stare, disappointed. Disapproving. He would prefer the slaps..

If he'd killed Abigail Hobbs. 

Thoughts of her kisses were more satisfying than imagining her reaction to seeing him again. He could only think of the negative and he desperately needed to hold onto the positive. He remembered the Lost Boys case. Captor bonding. He smirked, and shook his head slightly.

"I'm not a little boy."

"You are to me."

Will's eyes flew open and he heard the squeal of the chain as Hannibal yanked it hard. The length grew taut and yanked him up by his throat quickly, dragging him up to his feet as Hannibal hefted. The balls of Will's feet could reach the floor by the time Hannibal had clipped the chain in, leaving Will exposed and grasping the chain to try and lift weight off his neck.

Hannibal walked across the room slowly, hands tucked behind his back. He looked no different than when Will had gone to him for therapy. Just a man, approaching him with a calm expression. This was how the Devil would appear to man.

"You interrupted me earlier, Will. I found that rude." Hannibal stood before Will, within arm's length.

"I'd rather not be the victim of your latent homosexuality."

Hannibal was silent. Will squeezed his eyes shut, teetering, palms sweaty and slipping on the chain. He expected a blow. Instead he felt gentle fingers stroke gently over his ribs. He let go and grabbed Hannibal's wrist, feeling the bite of the chain but he risked that to get Hannibal's hand off of him.

"Do...don't.. touch me.." 

"Do you fear touch, Will?" Hannibal allowed Will to hold his wrist. He simply lifted his other hand to touch the younger man's hip.

"Get off me."

Hannibal was unpertubed. There was nothing Will could do to stop him. Will knew it. "Or is it me you fear? Have I given you a reason to fear me yet, Will?"

Will felt himself losing his balance. He forced his eyes open and looked at Hannibal, briefly skirting over his eyes before looking up. 

"Are you praying? Or simply avoiding my eyes?" Hannibal's hand slid up, resting on Will's ribcage.

"No." Will forced himself to let go of the chain, grabbing Hannibal's other wrist to try and force it down. "No."

Hannibal left his hands on Will's sides, waiting for the inevitable. His feet ached and he felt himself drop. The chain came across hard around his neck, cutting the air off. He let go of Hannibal, reaching up to grab the chain, strainging to pull himself back up. Hannibal's hands didn't move from his ribs.

"Will, look at me."

"No." He arched his back, feeling himself brush against Hannibal, before he twisted his hips to the side to try and shake Hannibal off. The doctor simply moved with him, keeping his hands against Will's ribs.

His calf muscles were burning and his hands kept slipping. He couldn't keep this up all night. He was going to choke.

Hannibal stepped closer, closing the distance between them, fully invading Will's space. "You could end it if you simply looked at me."

Will could have grabbed onto Hannibal. He could have tried to strangle the man with how close he was. He could smell him, feel the warm through his pressed waistcoat and shirt. Hannibal's belt was diggin into his skin. All Will wanted to do was breathe. His anxiety was making it harder to. His body continued to betray him.

"Things will only get worse for you if you continue down this path, Will." Hannibal's hand slid down, threatening more intimate touches.

His eyes moved, looking at Hannibal. He met the man's eyes and the two held the stare before Will looked away, looking up, grasping tighter at the chain.

Hannibal stepped back, letting go of Will's sides. Will listened to the click of the heels, then gulped in air as the chain loosened. He sank down thankfully to the floor, nails digging into the rug. He didn't look up when he heard Hannibal walk back over to him.

"You killed Abigail Hobbs." 

Will closed his eyes, sinking himself down onto the rug, curling onto his side. 

"You cut her throat and she drowned on her own blood." Hannibal knelt down and reached to touch Will's head.

The reaction was severe. Will jerked back from Hannibal, backing himself up until his back hit the wall and there was no where else to go. He should have lunged at him. Hannibal might have the keys in his pocket.

"You have no need to fear me"

"What did you mean that you chose not to turn yourself in? Have you killed before, Dr. Lecter?" Will's eyes flickered to Hannibal's pocket. He was catching his breath. He could make a lunge for it.

"I have. Just as you have killed. You killed Garret Jacob Hobbs and then you killed his daughter. How did that make you feel, to kill Abigail?"

"Who did you kill?" Will needed to keep it off of him. The less Hannibal focused on him the less pain Will would most likely face.

Hannibal inclined his head towards Will, smiling. "Many more than you. How did you feel when you killed Abigail Hobbs?"

Will reached up, gripping his hair, twisting it in frustration before grabbing the chain at his neck to give it a hard jerk. "Why haven't you killed me? "

"Because you killed Abigail Hobbs." The doctor stood up straight, adjusting his tie. "I enjoyed your smile when you cut into her. I am curious about this side of you Will, I would like to see more of it."

"I didn't.." Will started, but he remembered his dream. The way he'd cut into her and felt the blood over her hands. He remembered how she looked lying on the floor. The emptiness in her eyes. ".. I wouldn't have.."

Hannibal paused, half turned away. He gazed down at Will with an even stare, waiting a moment to let Will's mind process the idea. 

"Do you remember killing her?"

"No... NO." Will dropped his head down into his hands, drawing his knees closer. He willed Hannibal to just leave. The mere idea of him having killed her... He could remember the blood on his hands. The smell of it in the air.

"You should get some rest, Will." Hannibal adjusted his waistcoat and walked from the room, leaving Will to his thoughts.

Will clutched his head, trembling. He wasn't going to get any sleep. Not with his body still betraying him. He wasn't going to fold to it. He wasn't going to fold to Hannibal Lecter. He laid down on his side, staying close to the wall as he huddled for warmth. He kept his eyes on the door, staring long and hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm such a tease.


	9. Cheeseburger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shocking evidence is revealed and Alana struggles to process her emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, did anyone else enjoy that finale as much as I did?! I got really inspired for this chapter, though it was a little hard tying things in from the episode. I hope I did a satisfactory job! Keep on keepin on, readers!

Alana opened her door, face wet, hands shaking. "Hannibal." 

Hannibal frowned at the state of her and stepped inside. He didn't bother with his coat, instead reaching up to gently touch Alana's cheek, head tilting. "Alana, what's wrong?"

"I didn't want to tell you over the phone. I spoke to Jack.. I told him I would tell you." She felt the pain starting to bubble up again and she stepped away from Hannibal, needing to pace. Needing the rest of her beer which she'd set on the coffee table. 

"Tell me what?" Hannibal shed his coat and hung it before stepping further into the house. He watched Alana take a long drink before speaking.

"They found evidence... At Will's home. On his fishing lures." Alana slammed the bottle down. "I shouldn't have been so flippant. Its as if the world is punishing me for being so flippant and now its even worse."

Hannibal shook his head slightly, reaching to take her shoulders and turn her towards him. "Now, now I doubt the world is punishing you. What evidence did they find?"

"Hair. DNA, pieces of bone and teeth.. Human remains, all linked to the copycat murders." She reached up, wiping at her eyes. "First Abigail, now this. None of us realized.. None of us saw what was wrong with him."

"I doubt he was aware of what was wrong with him as well." He guided her to sit down, keeping a hand resting on her forearm now to keep her from standing again in her agitation. "Will was very ill."

Alana shook her head, staring across the room. "Jack promised me he wouldn't get too close. He promised. I could see that he was starting to break and I didn't say anything, I let it happen. Now this, he's been like this for so long, he's needed help for so long...."

"We all missed the signs. We are all guilty to some degree." Hannibal found her hand and held it between his own, rubbing the back of her fingers gently. "Will is responsible, ultimately, for his own actions."

"I can't believe that he would have done this. He couldn't have done this."

"We are being presented with overwhelming evidence that presents him as the killer of five people." He looked up at her, leaning to try and catch her eye. "I am as hurt as you are."

Alana turned to tell Hannibal he couldn't have been, that there was no way he could be as hurt, but she saw the sheen of tell tale emotion in Hannibal's eyes and it gave her pause. She reached up to cup his cheek and she frowned. 

"Hannibal... You're right. We all missed what should have been obvious." She let him pull her hand down, he seemed to just want to hold her hands at the moment. "I just... struggle to believe that Will is a serial killer. I've only just begun accepting he killed Abigail Hobbs and even that..."

"I failed in him particular. He came to me for help and I was unable to save him. It is a guilt I must carry for the rest of my life." 

She could see the hurt in his expression. It was touching to see how much he cared about Will, though the circumstances were unsatisfying. She squeezed his hands before standing, stepping out to her kitchen. Hannibal turned to watch her, brow furrowing at what she was doing. She returned with a bottle and offered it to him before sitting back down beside him.

"You're a good man Hannibal. This just wasn't meant to be a success story for us."

Hannibal accepted the bottle with a small smile. He opened with a little pop and put it to his lips. It wasn't as high a quality as he normally drank, this a little closer to swill but he would be polite about it.

"How do you feel, Alana? This is a lot of information to be taking in at once and to do so alone must have been difficult."

"Oh but I was with Jack Crawford. A shining example of emotional support." It frustrated her that Jack had done this to Will. He'd pushed Will to the edge and then gave that one final nudge over the cliff and acted shocked when something like this happened.

"I am sure Jack Crawford feels his own level of guilt over what happened. He simply expresses it differently than you or I would." 

Alana wiped her eyes gently, shaking her head. "I'm frustrated. I'm upset. I screamed, I admit it. I got in my car and just screamed. I was finally wrapping my head around Abigail and then four more..."

Hannibal found her hand again, holding it gently. "As you said, Will is very ill. He is also still at large. Do you feel safe here, Alana?"

She looked startled, as if she hadn't thought of that before. "Do you think Will would come to harm any of us? I thought he might stay on the run."

"If he is truly ill I would imagine he would seek out help where he could find it. Perhaps he would try to get in contact with one of us. Otherwise, if he were an intelligent psychopath, he could have disappeared. It could be many years before we manage to catch him."

"I'm guessing Will's dogs wouldn't be of much use against him either." She sighed and picked up her own bottle. She noted the surprise in Hannibal's eyes. "I took in Will's dogs. They're in the back yard right now, I didn't want them to interrupt."

Hannibal gave her a small smile. "That is a very kind thing to do. I am sure Will would appreciate it."

Alana smiled in return. She hadn't even though about it. Just.. fetched the dogs back from animal services and brought them home. She liked dogs, she could grow used to them. Adapt to their sounds and smells. There was one missing, she noted right away. Winston, his name had been. Gone. She wondered if Will took him with him. It wouldn't be very practical for a man on the run.

It was a better thought that the one of the animal blood that had been found mixed with Abigail's. She knew the dogs were Will's sanctuary. She didn't want to think about the what if Will was that far gone. For some reason she found it easier to accept that Will slaughtered Abigail Hobbs than to accept that he might have risen a knife against his dogs. There was something inherently wrong with tht kind of thinking.

"... I'm sorry, Hannibal, I can't get my mind off of Will." She admitted finally. She tried to picture him killing those people and she just couldn't. She wasn't like him.

"That is perfectly fine. It will linger on my mind for some time as well." He set his bottle down and sat back on the couch. 

He looked at her, and she looked back at him and tried to smile. It didn't come so easily. Ther e were other thoughts encroaching on her mind and they weren't pleasant. She actually felt a little sick when she thought about it.

"Freddie Lounds is going to have a field day on this one." She needed more of her beer. She picked it back up and scowled into it as she took a drink. "She was pegging Will as insane since before she shared two words with him and was just waiting for evidence to prove her right."

Not that Will had lessened her belief by saying what he'd said. Alana knew she wasn't prepared for the questions of the media. Freddie Lounds had already hounded her for a story after Abigail. Now the connection was solid. It would be Freddie's big break. The reporter who reported it first.

Hannibal seemed to feel the need for another drink as well, though his wasn't a gulp as her's was. He set the bottle down again and turned towards Alana. "You are worrying too much, Alana. These things are outside of your control."

"I don't want her tarnishing Will's reputation. Isn't that twisted? I'm afraid she's going to report something that might be damaging. Of course its going to be damaging, all of it is damaging." She was growing upset again. "We don't even know what's going on, what's going through his mind. He came to talk to be about going to Minnesota and he was fine, he said his fever had broken..."

"Will was fine when Cassie Boyle and Marissa Shore were murdered as well." Hannibal interjected, though it only seemed to make her more upset.

"He could be sick, Hannibal. We don't know. He could need our help and they're going to paint him as some.. psychopath!"

Hannibal stared at her until she grew uncomfortable and she looked away. 

"I'm aware of how the evidence looks. I'm aware of how it looked before... I even said before I thought he killed those girls, before the true evidence even came to be."

"You were in shock. Everyone thought Will was the murderer and it was difficult to speak against it. Now there is evidence and you are in shock again. You are rebelling against the thought of Will being the killer because of your affection for him."

Alana shook her head, pressing her lips into a firm line. "I lost faith in him... I lost my faith in him and who he was... but I thought about it. I thought about it and knew that in his heart he wasn't that person, he couldn't be that person.. and then physical evidence appears and my faith is shaken again."

Hannibal watched as the tears welled in Alana's eyes and spilled over. He reached out and brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheeks, wiping them away. 

"It speaks volumes of your own good character to still desire to believe him innocent in the face of overwhelming evidence."

"But I said I believed he killed them.. before the evidence, before everything. You, too... You believed before we were given proof."

Hannibal nodded, brushing her hair back from her face to avoid having it stick to her damp cheeks. "I did. And I still believe now. I wanted to believe otherwise but perhaps a part of me had seen enough of Will's madness that it was impossible for me to think anything but the worst. I already feared he would be pushed beyond a place I could save him."

"We're both a mess aren't we?" Alana sniffed, pulling Hannibal's hand gently from her hair. She held it, then laced her fingers with his as she tried to smile for him again.

"You called me here tonight for a reason, Alana. If that reason was to have someone to cry on then I believe our relationship has blossomed beyond simply collegues."

Her weak smiled crumbled. Her brow furrowed and the tears started coming again. 

"We broke him. We _killed_ who he was... We're just as much murderers as he is."

Hannibal drew her in and tucked her head against his shoulder as he embraced her, rubbing her back. He didn't say anything, just held her. It was all Alana needed for the time being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Alana. Hannibal will take care of you!


	10. Ham and Cheese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal assumes the role of teacher.

Will was freshly shaven again. Hannibal had put a blade to his throat and left his face clean. It felt strange to have a smooth face. He never quite adapted to the habit of removing hair. He had trouble grasping how women could keep up with the amount that society expected them to keep up with when he struggled to maintain his face.

He must have done something wrong, said something wrong. He had a feeling it had to do with his unfinished plate of food that he'd thrown in frustration across the room. It had shattered the plate. The sound of breaking glass settled in his stomach like a cold stone. If he could have taken back the entire motion he would have.

Anxiety built up when Hannibal stepped into the room to fetch the plate back. Will sucked in air, eyes darting to the pieces of the plate and bits of food. It had been rude of him to throw it. Every time Will was rude something was done to him. His mattress taken away, clothes vanished off of him, he was hung. His space invaded, drugs slipped into his food. The connection was clear in his head, it was obvious.

Hannibal cleaned up the mess and left the room. The waiting only worsened Will's anxiety. Hannibal returned with a glass of water. He set it at the half way point.

"You must be thirsty from all of your excitement. Please, drink."

Will didn't move for the glass. "Why?"

"It would be rude not to." 

The knots tightened in his chest. Hannibal was at the advantage. Will could lunge at him and possibly even cause quite a bit of damage but ultimately Hannibal controlled the situation. He doubted the man would be so foolish as the bring the keys with him into the room. Will would be left here to die.

Will went to the glass to pick it up and Hannibal grabbed him roughly when he was with distance. A needle jammed into the junction between shoulder and neck and Hannibal depressed the plunger before releasing him, taking a few swift steps back.

"Wha-" Will stumbled back away from him, eyes widening as he clasped the painful part of his neck. "What did you do to me. What did you do?!"

"Vecuronium bromide." Hannibal picked up the glass and set it by the door, balancing the used needle atop the rim. "It has a short onset time. You should be feeling the effects quite soon."

Will's legs trembled beneath him. His muscles weren't responding to him. The sensation was spreading through him. Everything was sluggish.

"In high doses it can kill a man. In low, it has a paralytic effect. I measured out enough to disable you but you should otherwise be fine." Hannibal walked slowly back towards him. "You commented before on my latent homosexuality. I assure you, that is only a half truth."

Will collapsed to the floor. He could move but barely. It felt like he was pushing through water with lead in his veins. Hannibal knelt and pushed him over onto his back. 

"You are capable of feeling pain.. or pleasure. Which do you prefer?"

He felt a prickle in his chest and he swallowed stiffly. He could die today if Hannibal had measured incorrectly. 

"Do you find me repugnant, Will?" Hannibal laid a hand on Will's stomach, a less than reassuring weight. "I find you to be the opposite. I find our similarities to be the recipe for a good companionship. Everything I do for you is to help you."

Will grunted and focused on moving his body away from the touch. He hated being touched. Jack always touched him, touched his glasses, stood too close. Alana he had welcomed but she never seemed to quite reach out. Hannibal.. 

"You killed Abigail Hobbs."

Hannibal slid his hand down over Will's hip to his thigh, touching the gauze there. He dug his fingers into the wound that was still healing and Will grunted again.

"Jack Crawford would say he broke you as he threw you into the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. He would blame himself but never take true responsibility for driving you to the edge." 

The hand slid back up, between Will's legs now and settled on the prize there.

"You have been rude to me, Will, when I have given you a sanctuary from the scrutiny of people like Freddie Lounds. I've hidden you from the world that wants you to hang." He found Will's eyes and stared long into them. "I can give you pleasure, Will, as much as I can take it away."

Will stared back at Hannibal, tears coating his eyes and giving them a sheen. His hand had inched sluggisly towards Hannibal's leg but he'd lost the strength to go any further.

"You have been so rude that you have yet to experience what I can give you." His grip tightened and he twisted his wrist. "Such delicate parts of you should be well taken care of. Could be, in fact."

Will didn't want to think about what delicate areas Hannibal was talking about but the pain radiating from that particular area spoke enough volumes. He tried to force words out. They came out as a weak whisper.

"Are... you... going to rape me..?"

Hannibal paused, then lifted his hand away, resting it back onto Will's belly. He watched Will and saw the fear in his eyes that Will couldn't hide. His head tilted and Will couldn't look away. As if there might be something hidden in Hannibal's expression that could answer the question without words.

"Yes."

"Please..." Will's voice was tighter, throat constricting with emotion.

Hannibal smiled. He reached to brush Will's hair gently off his forehead, combing it back with light finger tips. "Alana grieves for you, Will. She is appalled by your actions but feels affection towards you still. Your heart would have broken to see her cry as she did."

Will's own heart went bitter cold when Alana's name came out. He didn't want to talk about Alana, not when rape was looming over him. He struggled to get his muscles moving, head lurching to the side to look at the opposite wall. He had no choice but to lie still and let it happen. 

"Alana and I have been spending a lot of time together." Hannibal shifted to his knees, loudly fiddling with his belt.

Will was sure it was for his benefit. 

"She and I have struck up a romantic relationship." The leather almost made a snap noise as it was pulled free of belt loops. "How does that make you feel, Will?"

It was like salt in his wounds. 

Hannibal carefully pushed Will over onto his side. He rolled the man onto his stomach and drew his arms behind his back. The leather of the belt bit into his wrists as Hannibal tied his wrists . The angle was awkward and it strained his shoulders. Hannibal grasped his hips and pull his waist upwards. Will closed his eyes, trying to prepare himself for the inevitable.

He felt Hannibal lean over his back, could feel him pressing through thin fabric against the him. Far too close to the only place Hannibal could force his way inside, with just that layer of cloth between them. 

"I can take your dignity at any time, Will. I want you to understand that. I would much rather you invite me into your bed"

Will breathed heavily, frightened wetness on his face. He coudn't form words. He could imagine the pain too clearly. Hannibal would have to hold him up, hold him close. The violation would be worse than the pain. Will couldn't fight back, even if the paralytic wore off mid way through. His hands were tied. He could only lie there and take it.

Hannibal was in complete control.

"I'll do anything..." Will bargained. It was a weak attempt. All he could do was bargain and beg.

"Hmm?" Hannibal paused in what he was doing, surely opening his pants, preparing for what would be pleasurable for him but painful for Will. "What could you possibly do for me when you are in a state like this?"

"I don't know what you want from me..." It was hard to bargain when no chips were handed to him at the start of the game.

"I wish for a pleasurable companionship with a like minded individual."

Will frowned, glancing to the side to try and see Hannibal. "I'm not.. ... I'm not gay"

Hannibal pressed against him again, this time flesh on flesh. Will screwed his eyes shut and choked on his own voice. 

"No no no, please, please no... I'm sorry."

"I could make you sorry, remember that Will. Any time I wish." Hannibal let him go, shifting to his feet.

Will looked wildly over his shoulder, feeling the threat sink in. Hannibal hadn't even opened the front of his pants. It'd been a trick. No, not a trick.. a lesson.

Hannibal left him on the floor, trussed up. He strode away from him and picked up the glass of water and spent needle before looking back at Will. 

"Have a good evening, Will."

The door clicked shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh Hannibal, you really know how to win a guy over.


	11. Italian Style Three Meat Pizza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Alana have lunch and then receive a bit of bad news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More canoodling.

"Try it."

"No."

Alana didn't lower the plate. Her brows were lifted and she was giving him such a look. It was amusing. Hannibal smiled at her.

"Why not?"

"I have had pizza made by actual Italian creators. In Italy, no less. I have no desire to try your strange pizza made by the shop down the street."

Alana pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. "...One bite and I'll let you off the hook."

Hannibal glanced at the concoction. Fish and fruit on a pizza. It was a strange amalgam of flavors that would most certainly cause his tongue to shrivel in abject horror. Alana was persistent though.

"If I try one bite, what do I get in return?"

"I'll kiss you."

Hannibal tilted his head. "Do you not kiss me anyway?"

Alana squinted at him. He smiled in return and reached to accept the plate. He peered at the sad looking scrap of crust and cheese and terrible choices in toppings before glancing up at Alana. "I will have to make a proper pizza for you one evening, one that doesn't come from a place presenting itself as a hut."

"Just try it, Hannibal."

It was just as Hannibal feared. He took the bite and while his tongue didn't shrivel he did feel a momentary sense of nausea at the texture and flavors mixing in his mouth.

"Spitting it out would be rude." Alana reminded him.

Hannibal passed her the offending food back and he swallowed reluctantly. It sat oddly in his stomach. He watched her take a far larger bite than his tentative one and shook his head.

Alana finished her lunch, looking absolutely amused with every glance she made at Hannibal. "You're a good sport. I promise, its far better than some of my forays into cooking." 

"I will have to teach you some tricks. The first off being how to make real Italian food." Hannibal slid his hand halfway across the table in an offer and she rested her's over his. It was a comfortable feeling.

One that was interrupted as a red head rapidly approached, looking every bit the curious reporter.

"So the rumors are true. You were awfully quick to leave behind Will Graham weren't you, Dr. Bloom?" Freddie looked absolutley pleased. If this was actually true news worthy she'd have been snapping pictures. Her story wasn't with the romantic interests of two psychiatrists though.

"You've been avoiding my calls for weeks. I'd really like to get a comment on how the case is going."

Alana stood and gathered her things, giving a tight, angry smile at Freddie. "I have no comment. As I've told you a hundred times before. I'm not feeding into your tabloid fairy tales."

Hannibal stood as well, adjusting his sleeves. "We do not have the inside story that you're looking for. Jack Crawford has all the information he can gleam from what little we could tell him. We are no longer a good source for you, Miss Lounds."

"Well I have other endeavors involving Will Graham's story, considering that Abigail Hobbs is dead."

"You're a vulture, Lounds." Alana took Hannibal's arm and attempted to draw him away. He stayed, just for a moment longer.

"What endeavor are you talking about?"

Freddie looked like a pleased kitten. "I'm writing a book on Will Graham. I'd love to get an inside look at his psychology. What he was like before the decline. What it was like following him down the rabbit hole of madness."

Alana bristled and had to tightened her grip on Hannibal's arm. He laid his hand over her's gently, shaking his head. He looked back at Freddie. "I apologize, Miss Lounds, but I have nothing to say on the subject of Will Graham. I wish you luck with your story."

Hannibal drew Alana away from the reporter, leading her from a possible shouting match with a dog of the media. 

"You are still very sensitive when it comes to Will Graham."

"I suppose I'm past the shock and denial and entering into the truly angry stages of grieving." She reached to tuck her hair behind her ear. "There's nothing we can do but wait now. I'd like my waiting to be haunted as little as possible by reporters."

"The waiting will be difficult. Jack Crawford has found little. It is as if Will has vanished off the face of the eath."

"I wish I could vanish from time to time. Escape somewhere. I need a vacation." Alana tipped her head to bump it against Hannibal's shoulder. "Or a spa day."

Hannibal pressed a small kiss to the top of her head. "I am sorry you are feeling so stressed. It upsets me that this entire ordeal is wearing you down so badly."

She smiled up at him, giving his arm a little pinch. "I have you, Hannibal. That's enough to balance out the stress. I've never had someone treat me so much like a queen or be so willing to put up with me when I choose to be annoying." 

She stopped the two of them and reached up to grab the lapels of Hannibal's jacket. She drew him down to kiss him, heels clicking when she came back down from meeting him half way. 

"How are you feeling, Hannibal? I feel like you spend so much time asking everyone else, that everyone forgets that you're human as well."

Hannibal took her hand in his and held onto it as he started their walk again. "I suppose I am stressed as well. The waiting weighs on my mind and I find myself worried for my own safety. I feel there was a reason why he called the two of us to the house that night."

He glanced at Alana and saw her frowning. "I apologize. I didn't mean to make you worry. "

"No, no. Its just.. something I try not to think about. Jack doesn't think there's anything to worry about.."

"Jack Crawford at times makes poor decisions, if his decision to push Will was any indication. If you ever feel unsafe in your home you are welcome to bring the dogs to mine and spend the evening."

Alana paused next to the car when they arrived, turning slightly to look at Hannibal. "Oh..? You're inviting me over to your home to spend a _night_? And whose room will I be staying in?" 

Hannibal hesitated, his mouth opening, then closing as if the words escaped him. He turned to look off into the distance, then back to Alana. "If you feel comfortable at where our relationship stands then you are welcome to stay in my room."

They shared a smile and Alana reached up to gently tap Hannibal's nose. "I might take you up on that offer, Hannibal. Since you were so polite about it. Though it'll be strange to see if you wear a suit to bed as well."

He chuckled and touched her cheek gently, sliding his thumb over her skin. He took a moment to just look at her face, examining her features in an almost clinical way. It was starting to make her feel slightly uncomfortable until he smiled and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

Alana smiled and stepped back as he opened the car door for her. She climbed inside and leaned across to unlock Hannibal's side. He leaned to peer into the window with a smile before climbing in. "I should get you back to work. I enjoy our lunches together."

"I enjoy that you enjoy it. I feel flattered that you've made time in the day for me." She reached across to gently squeeze Hannibal's knee. "We should do dinner again. Maybe you can teach me how to cook. I'm sure it'd be a break if I could cook for you one day."

"I am more than happy to cook for you as many times as you'd like. I find the process pleasurable. If you'd like to learn though I would be happy to teach you." He started his car and made a few minor adjustments. "We'll make an entire evening of it."

A jingle jangle played over the classical music coming from the stereo and Alana startled a little. She patted for her bag and opened it up to produce her phone. "Its Jack Crawford." 

Hannibal nodded, continuing to pull out of the space. They only had so much time to spend eating and getting back to their respective careers. Alana put the phone to her ear.

"Hello, Jack..? What's going on? Did you find Will? ... Oh my god." She reached up and rubbed her forehead. "Are you sure? ... Oh my god..." She looked at Hannibal, eyes wide. "Is there something we can do? 'We're coming back from lunch. Yes, we'll meet you there. Okay.."

She hung up the phone and clasped it between her hands, breathing carefully. Hannibal glanced at her, concern in his eyes. "Is there something wrong, Alana?"

"They found Beverly Katz in her home... she's dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GET A ROOM.


	12. Ham, Egg and Cheese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will receives some bad news and an ultimatum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry guys, I try to get a chapter out to you every day but this one was really fighting me. I'm still not completely satisfied and it feels a little short but I think its the best its going to get.

She was turning her head to look up at him, black hair swinging around her face. She smiled, laughed and he smiled back at her. It was good to see her smile. All the happiness of a teenage girl coming back to her. He approached her from behind. He grasped her by her face, pulling her head up and drew a knife across her throat. 

Ear to ear he laid her open. He watched the blood spray, arcing outward. Her body fell to the ground. The soft click of nails echoed and his dogs trotted out of the darkness, sniffing at the blood and lapping Abigail's life from the floor.

"Will."

Will turned his head, looking over his shoulder. He felt a breath on his neck and he closed his eyes, leaning back into it.

"Will."

Will's eyes snapped open and he jerked back. Hannibal was seated on the edge of the bed, hand idling in the air where Will's forehead had been. He'd been touching him in his sleep. Will felt immediately sick. He hadn't even heard Hannibal enter the room. 

"What are you doing, what do you want?"

Hannibal tilted his head slightly, then turned to pick something up off the bed. He turned back and opened Will's glasses, leaning in to set them on Will's ears. He adjusted them on Will's face and let his fingertips brush gently over Will's cheek, causing the younger man to tense and try to lean further away.

"What are these for?" Will was afraid to move. He'd been given the bed back and some clothing to wear, even a few books to read, but he knew he'd been refusing his medication. He was afraid of being drugged again. Hannibal had taken that in stride.

"I wanted you to read something today." He offered Will a print out.

Will could see it was from Tattlecrime.com. Freddie Lounds's rag. He accepted it and read the headline.

_Graham Kills Again, FBI Agent Slain_

It felt as if the rug had been pulled out from under him. He fish mouthed at the sight of the headline, beginning to feel the fingers of panic wrapping around his throat. He read into the article and the name Beverly Katz was there, in cold black ink. 

"Will, I would prefer that you begin taking your medication on a consistant basis."

Will swung at Hannibal before he could think better of it. He caught Hannibal off guard, cuffing him across the face before Hannibal could react. Will received a swift elbow in the mouth. Hannibal backed up off the bed with an easy movement, putting space between the two of them. Will pulled the glasses off to avoid having shards of plastic in his eyes if it came to a real blow to blow, lurching to his feet.

"There is no need for this, Will. You will only make it worse for yourself." 

"She didn't deserve to die." Will took a few angry steps towards Hannibal, who simply backed up further, leading him along across the room.

"Neither did Abigail Hobbs, yet she is dead as well."

Will lunged, infuriated that he was bringing up Abigail, that her name was falling from his devil's lips again, that Beverly was dead and it was his fault. For not taking a few pills, of all the stupid reasons. 

The chain caught and Will choked, almost yanking himself backwards. He stumbled, circling back, his hand pulling the chain away from his throat. 

"Beverly Katz believed you to be a murderer, Will. Not only of Abigail but of Georgia Madchen and Cassie Boyle, of Marissa Shore, Donald Sutcliffe. They've all come to believe you to be a serial killer."

"I didn't kill them." Will wiped his mouth, blood staining the back of his hand. "You killed them. You killed every one of them."

Hannibal tilted his head. "You and I are alike, Will. We have both killed innocent people."

"Garret Jacob Hobbs wasn't innocent. Abel Gideon wasn't innocent!" Will was pacing, like a tiger at the end of a leash.

"Abigail Hobbs--"

" _Wasn't innocent_!" Will's voice was a roar, drowning out Hannibal. 

A silence fell between them. Will shook and Hannibal watched him. The sounds of Will's heavy breathing filled the room. It took a moment for the world to catch up. When it did Will pushed his hands through his hair, turning away from Hannibal.

"You killed Abigail, Will." Hannibal tucked his hands behind his back, pacing on his side of the room. "You killed her and by your actions here you have caused the death of Beverly Katz."

Will turned, glaring at Hannibal. He shook but couldn't find words. He knew Beverly was his fault. His choices were radiating outwards, affecting the people he cared about. 

"What happened to taking my dignity?" 

Hannibal inclined his head slightly. "I found a more effective alternative"

Will felt a noose tightening around his neck. "I'll take the medication."

The doctor looked pleased. "I trust you will follow my instruction in the future. Please, sit down."

Will didn't want to sit. He was tense. He was ready to lunge at Hannibal, to tear his eyes out. He could think of multiple ways he could kill the man with his bare hands and Hannibal seemed to sense it, making no move to come closer to him.

"Who are you going to kill if I don't sit down?" Will's voice was bitter. His hands were clenched into fists.

"Perhaps Alana Bloom."

Will sat down, hands rubbing over his face slowly. Hannibal stepped back into his side of the room, approaching the bed. Will tensed, drawing his hands down to grip his knees, twisting the fabric of his pants to avoid attacking Hannibal. 

"Alana and I have been getting very close over the past few weeks." Hannibal reached into his waistcoat pocket and produced a small recorder. "Her point of view about you has altered drastically."

"When you're framing me for serial murders that tends to happen." Will wanted to shift away from Hannibal. Their shoulders were almost touching. It was a strange feeling to be sitting so close when all Will wanted to do was attack.

Hannibal's hand reached up and touched Will's hair, fingers curling and brushing the curls off of Will's forehead. Will closed his eyes and he started to lean away

"Have you come to term with the death of Abigail Hobbs?" 

Will shook his head once, shoving Hannibal's hand away. He didn't say anything. He had nothing to say about Abigail Hobbs. He didn't want to think about the girl, or what he said about her. She was just a child and he'd spoken in anger. Yet he couldn't retract what he said. He couldn't get the dream out of his head either, of the feeling of the knife across her throat.

"Do you need time to mourn Agent Katz?"

Will swung without thinking, lashing out at Hannibal's face again. Hannibal was prepared this time, catching Will's arm. He grabbed Will by the throat, pushing him backwards against the wall roughly. 

"Your actions will lead to another punishment. Perhaps I will bring Alana here and cut her throat in front of you."

Will forced himself to relax. Hannibal had found the button to push and he was pressing hard. He released Will over a moment, leaning back from him. He fixed his sleeves before standing. 

"You should think seriously on how you wish to proceed from this moment on. I believe today we have made great progress. I am looking forward to my next visit with you." 

Will waited until he was alone to let out the angry scream. There was nothing he could do.

No, there was something. It was swallowing his pride and listening to orders. He had no chance of freedom by continuing to fight back at every possible chance. There would be no way he could make his small rebellions safely with the guillotine hanging over Alana's head.


	13. Sloppy Joes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Hannibal have a conversation about murder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Under great duress do I post this chapter.

"Jack, come in." Dr. Lecter stepped aside to allow Jack Crawford into his office.

"I didn't catch you at a bad time did I?" Jack stepped in despite his slight reservations. He knew that there was a romantic relationship between Dr. Lecter and Dr. Bloom and that they shared lunches together from time to time.

"No, Alana is taking a working lunch." Dr. Lecter closed the door and followed Jack further into the room, motioning for the man to take a seat if he wanted to.

Jack took Dr. Lecter's offer and sat down, though he didn't lean back. "I needed to talk to you about... quite a few things actually."

Dr. Lecter sat down across from Jack, relaxing in his seat and crossing his legs. "Is this conversation professional or personal?"

"I would say more personal than professional. I really should have made an appointment but I seem to be taking advantage of our working relationship."

"Since this is a personal conversation and you have admitted to be taking advantage of me would it trouble you if I had my lunch while we spoke?"

Jack grinned and nodded, motioning for Dr. Lecter to go ahead. "I'm sorry, I really am imposing."

Dr. Lecter held up his hand as he stood, head shaking. "Not at all, Jack. You are welcome to come speak to me when you need to. I understand that you have been having a difficult time with Will Graham's case."

Jack's grin faded and he leaned back, reaching up to rub a hand across his forehead. "This.. is not turning out as I'd hoped. The Abigail Hobbs murder was so sloppy that I expected it to have been a psychotic break. I thought for sure that this was me, pushing Will too far and this was the consequence of it."

He found it difficult to come to terms with the part he had in everything. He had done what he'd done to save lives, because Will saved lives. This, though, had been worse than Miriam Lass, far worse. He never expected Will to snap like he did and so soon after getting back into the field.

"What is it that you are thinking now?" Dr. Lecter plated his food, before settling behind his desk. He paused and motioned to the container. "I have enough for both of us if you wish to share in the meal."

"No, but thank you Dr. Lecter." Jack shifted and stood, clearly agitated about the prior question. 

"Its not so much thinking as knowing. Abigail had been sloppy, an emotional kill. The other murders were calculated. He knew what he was doing when he chose to kill them, had to have."

"Will was very ill when he kiled Dr. Gideon." Dr. Lecter reminded him.

"Yes, but this isn't born of delusion or illness. These murders are presentations, as if he's showing off. Then he kills Beverly." Jack's brows lifted and he shook his head. "I should have expected him to lash out at us now that we have him pegged. "

He would never forget that crime scene, seeing one of their own laid out. She had been left in her bed, muscle missing from her legs. It was as if Graham picked out the choice cuts.

"He's managing to stay off our radar, despite taking pieces of Beverly from the crime scene. He's far more dangerous than I expected. I liked him much better when he was on our side." Jack always wondered if Will would be able to get away with murder if he put his mind to it. This was proof positive.

"Pieces? Is he still imitating Garret Jacob Hobbs?"

Jack thought for a moment, head tilting to and fro. "I would say so. He didn't honor her as Hobbs would have but he showed a level of remorse. He had her tucked into bed like the last Hobbs murder. Perhaps it was because Beverly showed him some level of friendship. I know she was always trying to extend a hand to him."

Dr. Lecter mixed his food, wetting his lips before choosing his words. "Perhaps Will felt it was a mercy killing. He removed the pain that she felt over him being a murderer. By cutting her life short he was saving her from having to face him again."

"Why take the souvenier though? We know Garret Jacob Hobbs ate his victims. Do you think Will is still wrapped up in Hobbs's mind enough to have resorted to cannibalism?"

"No, I believe he was sending the FBI a message. A message that none of you are as safe as you believe you are."

Jack looked uncomfortable. "As I suspected. I was hoping we would be looking for Garrett Jacob Hobbs, not Will Graham. It's far more daunting a task to be searching for one of my best..."

Dr. Lecter looked back at Jack, head tilting. "He is an intelligent, calculated man who will think of your moves before you are able to make them. He may never kill as Hobbs did again."

"As I feared. I hope I might be able to utilize your insight into Will's mind in the future, Dr. Lecter."

The doctor smiled, giving a short nod before moving the conversation forward. "And how is this all affecting you on a personal level?"

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose and sat back down. "Poorly. Bella hasn't been doing well. Her treatments are making her weak and I feel like she's pulling further away. I think she senses the pressure this case is putting on me."

"Have you spoken to her about the case?"

"No, but I haven't had to. Freddie Lounds has sensationalized this, turning Will Graham into the Devil incarnate. She's making us look like fools chasing a ghost."

Dr. Lecter nodded, wiping his mouth gently. "Miss Lounds certainly has a way with inciting a sense of concern among her readers."

"I really wish you didn't refuse a police protection, Dr. Lecter, you know I worry about your safety. Dr. Bloom told me she worries about you as well." Jack sighed, turning slightly to look at the doctor. "I understand your desire for privacy but I think it would do you well to have some level of protection."

"I have a security system on my home, with my car in the garage. I am very studious about arming it every evening."

"Then at least at your office. You still lack a secretary. You're alone here when there aren't any patients."

Dr. Lecter gave Jack an even look. "I assure you, Jack. I am confident I can defend my own office. It would not be the first time I would have had to defend myself in this room."

The gentle reminder of Tobias Budge was enough to make Jack raise his hands in acceptance. So be it. He couldn't force protection on the man if he didn't want it. Of course, he could just put an agent outside the office anyway, but he was sure Dr. Lecter wouldn't appreciate that type of treatment.

"You cannot protect the two of us forever, Jack."

That particularly reminder was one Jack wanted to avoid. He chose to change the subject."So enough about my problems. How have you and Dr. Bloom been getting along, if I may ask?"

"We have been getting along quite well. Our relationship has progressed to a comfortable companionship and we enjoy one another's presence."

Jack didn't press any further. He knew from Dr. Bloom's protective custody that she stayed over at Dr. Lecter's from time to time. Bringing it up might be a bit rude in the present company. It certainly wasn't any of Jack's business what the two doctors did with each other. Though he knew, from a behavioralist's point of view, that it might rile Will Graham up.

Dr. Bloom had admitted to Graham having romantic overtures towards her. It was part of the reason why Jack was so worried about Alana's safety. It had surprised him that it was Beverly that lost her life first and not Alana, not that he wanted either of them to die.

Dr. Lecter was watching him, with that scrutinizing eye. Jack stood, adjusting his sleeves. "Well, I appreciate you chatting with me, Dr. Lecter. If there's anything you need you feel free to call me."

"I will of course take you up on that offer should I need something in the future. I thank you for your continued protection of Alana. It brings her a sense of comfort when she is home alone." There was a genuine look of affection in his eyes when he spoke Alana's name.

Jack smiled at Dr. Lecter, glad that he could provide a service to at least one person successfully. "Its my pleasure, truly."

He left the doctor to his lunch, stepping out of Dr. Lecter's office into the warming day. Spring was edging closer. It should have been a time of rebirth but it was clouded by the bloody trail Graham left behind him. He made his way to his car and almost stopped when he saw that familiar red head.

"Freddie Lounds, I'm beginning to think you're following me."

"I'm only following the story. You've all been so mum on the latest murders, I was beginning to wonder if you were hiding something from me." Freddie was leaning against his car, looking ready to pounce. "You know I'm still looking for quotes for my book."

"That's lovely, Miss Lounds, but as I said before, I'm not interested." He reached to pull open the door, but she was standing against the driver's side. 

She peered up at him, head tilting. "Inquiring minds what to know. The public can get quite panicked if they don't know what's going on. As far as they know the FBI is failing in catching a violent serial killer that was one of their own. One that got out right under their noses."

Jack's forced smile was becoming more strained. "You can't threaten me into helping you write your book. Nor anyone else on my team."

"A sorry thing, Agent Crawford. I have so much to say about the poor job you're doing. I wonder if Will Graham is reading my articles. He's giving me so much material for them..."

Jack forced the door open, bumping Freddie out of the way. "Have a good day, Miss Lounds." 

Freddie stood back from the car to let Jack pull out and drive from the lot. She turned to look back up at Dr. Lecter's office. She tensed when she noticed Dr. Lecter in the window peering out at her and turned quickly to head back to her car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I hate Jack.


	14. Meatballs and Mozzarella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will is rewarded and Hannibal shares some information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty sweet storms today.

"I want to go outside."

Will was staring across the room, his legs crossed on the bed and hands clasped tightly in his lap. Hannibal had just stepped in to give him a meal and a little cup of pills. Will had been preparing to ask for what he imagined was a few days now.

Hannibal approached the bed and offered the plate to Will, who took it and held it in his lap. The pills the younger man tossed back with a tip of his head and handed the cup back. Hannibal placed the little cup beside the bed as he sat down beside Will.

"You must understand my reluctance to allow you to go outdoors." 

"I've done everything you've asked of me for.. ..." Will frowned, looking down into his plate. He didn't know how long he'd been here.

"You have been very cooperative and for that I thank you." Hannibal reached up and touched Will's hair, sliding fingers through it. "Your hair is becoming unruly."

Will went very still, brow furrowing. He forced himself to pick up the fork and put food in his mouth, the food tasting like ash. He took a few bites while Hannibal touched his hair and swallowed it down. When Hannibal removed his hand he forced the words out past his lips

"I'll sit still for a haircut. I just want to go outside." The fresh air would do him good. The screaming would do him better.

"You will sit still for a haircut regardless." Hannibal reminded him. "Eat your meal."

Will didn't want to eat any more. He set his fork down. "Is it still winter?"

"Its officially spring." Hannibal lifted the fork and filled it before offering it to Will. "You didn't eat your first meal, you need to eat the second."

Will looked at the fork of food and he barely resisted throwing the plate. His fingers were gripping it tightly. He leaned in slightly and took the bite of food and Hannibal seemed pleased. He swallowed after a few chews and looked away.

"It'd be nice to see it." It gave him a sense of how long he'd been here. Far too long.

"Perhaps some day you can." Hannibal offered another bite. "The air is very stifled in here."

He didn't want to be fed. Will was capable of feeding himself, he just had no desire to eat. He had lost weight since being trapped here. He kept his activity up as best he could with a chain around his neck but his energy was low due to the depression.

He accepted the bite, only because refusing would be rude. Hannibal turned the fork around after Will had accepted, offering it back to him.

"You are an adult, Will, you should feed yourself. Please finish your meal. I will be back for the plate in a moment." Hannibal stood and left Will to his thoughts.

Will leaned his head back against the wall. It had been a worthwhile attempt at going outside. Just to get out of this room, outside of these four walls.. The monotony would drive him mad faster than Hannibal's punishments. The hope that Hannibal would eventually allow him outside was a mood lifter at least.

He finished the plate and set it aside on the floor, legs hanging off the edge of the bed. He rubbed his hands over his face and he sighed. What was on the agenda today? Ah yes, staring at the walls.

The door opened and there was a soft jingle. Will looked up in time for the dog to lean up and lick his face. He was startled by the presence of the animal and thought for a moment he was hallucinating again, hands pushing the dog away at first before he realized that the fur under his hands was real fur. 

"I felt you have earned a bit of companionship during the day while I'm out." Hannibal remained near the door, watching Will stroke his hands over the dog's fur.

Will felt his eyes burn and he closed them to stave off any more show of emotion as he buried his hands in the fur of the dog. It was one of his own dogs, Farah. It was a kind gesture, impacting Will more than he expected. His dogs were his number one compaions in his life and he hadn't seen them for so long.

Farah sneezed as she sat back, tail thumping on the floor. Will frowned and lifted her lips, checking her color. Her ears were warm as well. "Is she ill?"

Hannibal approached and seated himself beside Will on the bed again. "Yes. Alana thought it better to separate her from the rest of your pack while she recovered. I offered to house her for the time being, as I was sure you would appreciate her company."

Will looked at Hannibal and felt a small smile coming on. It was genuine. To have one of his dogs here was more than a treat. It was better than going outside for a few minutes. When Hannibal returned the smile Will realized what his face was doing without his go ahead and he turned to look at the dog again, forcing a small frown.

"How badly have you ruined my life, Dr. Lecter?" Will rubbed the dog behind the ears, focusing on her.

"There is evidence against you for five murders, with the sixth under heavy speculation." Hannibal extended a hand to pat the dog as well, letting his hand brush over Will's.

Will ignored the touches, not wanting to let go of Farah simply because Hannibal was brushing against him. "That seems excessive. I think Abigail would have been enough to put me away for a few years."

Hannibal withdrew his hand. "You would have pled insanity due to your illness. You have no memory of killing Abigail and most likely would have been able to be released as rehabilitated."

"My reputation would have been tainted. I would have never worked with the FBI again. So why blame me for the other murders? Unless it's just another chain to keep me here."

"If you escape from me you are merely running into the arms of the FBI. They will prosecute you and remand you to prison, or perhaps psychiatric care. Your life will effectively end." Hannibal tilted his head, attempting to catch Will's eye. "I am prolonging your life."

Will leaned back, his head tilting back until all he could see was the ceiling as he laughed weakly. "This isn't a life I want prolonged. Neither lives are ones I want.. this is a matter of which is the lesser of two evils."

"You could always choose to commit suicide."

That left Will feeling cold. That was an option he didn't think on. It would be against what Hannibal wanted which meant he could still follow through with killing Alana. It was a stupid worry. He would be dead, what did it matter at that point? He wouldn't know.

Right now he knew. He cared right now. To die would be to potentially take Alana with him and that wasn't fair. There was still that hope of freedom. He could escape, could tell the world of who Hannibal Lecter really was.

A world that wouldn't listen to his word. A mad man who slaughtered six people. Hannibal had painted him into the corner and left him to decide how dirty he wanted to get.

"You could always come clean... or frame someone else. Though at this point they'll just believe its me framing someone else won't they? You've turned them all against me."

"They all believed you to be unstable. Jack Crawford used you without a care to your health, the others saw you as a charlatan."

Will lowered his head, watching his dog lay at his feet. "Alana worried I would get too close."

"Alana fears you."

"She fears the image of me that you created." Will stood. He wanted to walk away from the bed, to put distance between himself and Hannibal.

Hannibal grabbed his wrist, holding him fast to where he was. "She found you too unstable to enter a romantic relationship with--"

"She had her reasons." Will twisted his wrist, trying to pull free.

"--And entered a relationship with me merely the day after she was told you were a murderer. There was no time of mourning, there was nothing."

Will stopped trying to twist away, just stood there with Farah peering up at him and Hannibal watching him. ".... you find that rude."

Hannibal didn't reply. His thumb stroked over the inside of Will's wrist and he gave a small tug to draw Will closer.

"Why did you kill Cassie Boyle? Your motive wasn't the same as Garrett Jacob Hobbs." 

"I attempted to hold a conversation with her and she blew her cigarette smoke into my face." Hannibal extended a hand to reach Will's other wrist. "I found that behavior to be unacceptable."

Will closed his eyes. "And Marissa Shore called her mother a bitch when she was only attempting to protect her." 

He pulled at his wrists, attempting to pull away from the doctor. Hannibal merely tightened his grip and pulled back. Farah whined from where she was on the floor. 

"Why did you kill Abigail Hobbs?" 

Will shook his head, hands balling into fists. He didn't want to think about Abigail Hobbs. "Dr. Sutcliffe and Georgia Madchen weren't rude towards you. One was your colleague and the other you never spoke to."

Hannibal pulled at Will gently, until Will's knees bumped against Hannibal's. "Dr. Sutcliffe had information he could have revealed to you that would have put me at risk. Georgia Madchen was a witness that night when I murdered my colleague."

"And its my fault Beverly is dead."

Will looked at that spot on Hannibal's forehead. He could drive his head forward and crack that spot. Stun the man, then he could loop the chain around Hannibal's neck. Choke him out before he had a chance to fight back.

"Do you fear for Alana?" Hannibal was rubbing the inside of Will's wrists with his thumbs, a gesture that could have been construed as affectionate.

"You told me you would only kill her if I didn't cooperate." Will lowered his eyes the bare few centimeters, focusing on Hannibal's eyes. "Are you going to kill her anyway?"

"I care for Alana." Hannibal had a small smile growing on his lips. "Though most likely not in the same manner you would care for her. It would be a shame to kill her, despite any accidental rudeness."

Will could see he was playing a game with him. Hannibal knew Will wanted Alana so he'd taken her from him. Completely, irrevocably. 

"Why didn't you cover up my murder the way you covered up Abigail's?"

"Would you have accepted my help as Abigail did? Or would you have thrown yourself to the wolves of the FBI, hoping that your illness would save you?"

Will gave his hands a firm yank, freeing them only due to having the advantage of surprise. "I wouldn't have hoped anything. I would have accepted whatever fate was in store for me. I'm not so egotistical to believe myself above the law."

The doctor stood and followed his retreat, hands tucking behind his back. "I follow the laws of nature. If a predator is a better hunter and chooses to hunt you then you have become prey. Prey is killed and consumed."

"Am I prey, Dr. Lecter?" Will was being backed into the corner, his hand suddenly thrusting out to smack against Hannibal's chest, attempting to hold Hannibal back. 

"You have the potential to be so much more. Your mind is trapped by society's standards of sanity. You wallow in a substandard existance, shunned for being strange and unstable when I find you unique and desireable."

Will's other hand lifted, joining the push. He'd managed to stop Hannibal but he could feel the man pressing against his palms. The doctor's hands came from behind his back and he grasped Will's wrists again.

"Stop." Will couldn't shake off Hannibal's hands without moving his own from Hannibal's chest. "Stop."

"Have you started to find me interesting yet, Will?"

"What do you want from me?!" His back was pressed heavily against the wall and he feared giving the hard shove that he wanted so desperately to follow through with. It might tip the scale the wrong way.

"You." Hannibal pulled Will's wrists outwards, causing the distance to suddenly close.

Will turned his head away sharply, jaw tightening. He felt ill. There was a knot forming in his chest and he could feel anxiety rising like bile in his throat. His fight or flight instinct was on high and he had no way to escape. It meant fight.

"Get away from me." 

Hannibal released him and took a few steps back. Will slumped against the wall, hands clenching into fists. The tension was palpable. It was broken when Hannibal turned and strode away towards the door. Farah stood and started to follow until the doctor turned and held up his hand.

"I will fetch her later." 

The door clicked shut behind him. Will sank down to the floor and grasped his knees, trying to slow his breathing. Farah trotted over when she noticed him in distress and leaned her head in to quickly lap at his face. He grasped her face and then pulled her forward, wrapping his arms around the solid, familiar form. She tolerated the hug. Will remained there for some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its always nice to have a dog around and not on the plate.


	15. Supreme Pizza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Domestic bliss followed by a bit of snooping makes for a fine day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If ya'll hate this chapter I'm going to lay the blame on my Betareader murgy31 cuz she told me to post it.

The night had been the usual sophisticated evening. Hannibal had invited her to a symphony, which was a most pleasurable experience. She was fascinated by how enthralled Hannibal became in the music, seeming to go off into his own world. Watching him was a pleasure.

Returning home was a pleasure. She initiated the touching and he reciprocated. The idea of dessert was forgotten for a more physical interaction in Hannibal's bedroom.

She woke the following morning with her head pillowed on his chest. She heard the soft whine of a wanting dog and she lifted her head with great reluctance. Hannibal's arm tightened around her and she looked up at his sleeping face.

"Unless you want her going on your wood floors..." She leaned up to kiss Hannibal gently before freeing herself from his arm. "You stay in bed, I'll be back."

Alana stole a shirt that was most certainly not her own and shifted back into her underthings before patting her leg and beckoning Farah to follow. Out the door the two girls went, heading around to the back of the house. The dog froliced outside in the morning dew as she went out to do her business.

Alana waited patiently, yawning behind her hand as she enjoyed the morning air. These moments were ones she looked forward to. She felt safe at Hannibal's. She didn't stay over often but when she did she found a comfort that she had trouble finding at her own home now.

Farah trotted back with that delighted look on her face and Alana sighed. "You're soaked. We'll have to keep you in the kitchen."

The dog led the way back inside and she went to the basement door, scratching at it until it opened and she disappeared down the steps. Alana tensed, trying to catch up to Farah before she escaped down the stairs but it was too late. 

"Farah! Don't be a brat, come back here! You're not supposed to be down there!" She flicked the light on and started down. She felt uncomfortable going into places that hadn't been involved in Hannibal's tour but the dog didn't seem to want to follow direction.

She found her pawing at another door, sniffing frantically around the base of it. She sat smartly when she noticed Alana approaching and she gave an expectant look at the woman. Alana rested her hands on her hips, eyeing the dog. This was a little strange.

"Alana?" Hannibal's voice floated down from the upstairs. There was a slight tension to it. It was followed to near silent foot steps as he descended the stairs to find her.

"I'm sorry, the door was cracked and Farah came running down here." She turned, brushing her hair back over her head, other hand motioning to how she was sitting in front the door. "Now she wants in there."

Hannibal paused next to Alana, peering down at the dog who's tail swished, big brown eyes gazing back at them with an imploring look. "Well, I am sure she will follow if we leave her down here by herself." 

Alana nodded, reaching to rub Farah's head before following Hannibal up out of the basement. It was such strange behavior.

"I think she's feeling much better than she had been. I'll pick her up and take her to the vet to get her checked out before taking her back. I'm sure you'll be happy to have her out of your hair."

"I have found my experience with her to be not unpleasant." Hannibal started making coffee, knowing that was the truest way to Alana's heart in the morning. "Though I doubt I have been able to provide her with the fullest attention that she deserves."

Alana glanced back towards the basement door. "Well, she doesn't seem neglected. Acting a little strange, but certainly not neglected. I think you did a fine job for not being an animal person."

Hannibal smiled at her, resting his hands on his counter. "You are doing well yourself. You've taken on quite a big job caring for five dogs when you previously had none."

"Luckily they're already well trained. If they were unruly I probably wouldn't have been able to take them." She sighed, resting her chin on her hand as she leaned on the counter. "Its a big change though. Its almost like having children.."

"Do you dream of having children some day?" Hannibal stepped away from the counter, going to his refridgerator to fish out makings for breakfast. There was no point in idling around when there could be food cooking for the two of them to enjoy.

Alana stood up straight, hands sliding over the counter as she pulled in a breath. That was a loaded question. "I.. suppose one day I would enjoy having children. If I found the right person to spoil them with. What about you?"

"I never imagined myself having children, but having met Abigail I could see the appeal." 

"You were close to Abigal, weren't you?" Alana felt a little pang of guilt. She knew that Hannibal liked Abigail, he had said as much in the past. To think that he had seen a potential for family in her was much more than a simple fondness though. 

Hannibal smiled at her as he wrapped the apron around his waist. "She and I enjoyed many conversations."

"You are allowed to express your inner most thoughts to me, Hannibal. I know the prospect is daunting but that's what having me around is for." She stepped around the counter to bump her hip against Hannibal's, a hand sliding up his arm. "What can I do to help?"

"You could whisk the eggs." Hannibal offered the carton of organic eggs and Alana took them with a little frown.

"Not exactly what I was talking about." She stepped around to the end of the counter to give Hannibal more room to work. She cracked open the four eggs needed and took the offered whisk. "You say things that make me worry and then you play it off as if nothing's wrong."

"I attend therapy sessions with Dr. Du Maurier on a regular basis." The initial sizzles were filling the air. "You are not my therapist, nor should I treat you as such."

"No, I'm your girlfriend and you should feel safe enough to talk to me about whatever it is you need to talk about. I don't want to force you into it, I just want you to know its an open ended offer."

Hannibal looked at her and gave her a smile. "I appreciate your concern. I apologize if it seems I am keeping things from you. I am a private man and am quite unused to having a companion to share in things with."

Alana offered the whisked bowl of eggs back, her head shaking. "What am I going to do with you, Hannibal? I doubt that any of your secrets will drive me away."

The rest of breakfast was made in a companionable silence, Alana being invited over to fold the omelet, which she was sure was just an excuse for him to put his arms around her. They sat at the table, close to one another and Alana was smiling at him again.

"What have I done to deserve such a smile?" His voice was filled with his good mood.

"I just like seeing this part of you, Hannibal. Not the side that puts on the show and the dinner parties, but the one who enjoys a simple omelet before work before he's combed his hair into place."

Hannibal glanced up as if he could see the state of his hair before landing another smile on Alana. "I am glad you enjoy me even in a state of disarray."

"Would you like to join me for a shower or are you going to reject me in favor of dishes?" She popped a forkful of egg in her mouth.

"I apologize, Alana, but I will refrain from joining you. You only have so much time to prepare for the day and it would be a shame to become distracted." Hannibal didn't have any appointments until later in the day but Alana had one bright and early.

"I suppose it _would_ be rude to be late for those reasons." Alana sighed softly and stood with her plate to return it to the kitchen for Hannibal. She downed the rest of her coffee, and stretched her arms above her head. 

"I promise not to take all day." She kissed the older man and lingered for a moment before he broke it himself, clearly wanting to get his chores done despite the invitation. Maybe on a day she had later appointments.

She disappeared up the stairs and was happy to climb into the shower. She highly enjoyed Hannibal's shower. She took her time a bit, enjoying the hot lap of luxury it provided her before stepping out and fishing into her overnight bag for the hair dryer. She got herself situated and adjusted herself in the mirror before heading back down.

She caught Hannibal pulling the basement door near shut behind him and frowned. "Is Farah still down there?"

"I've left the door cracked in case she decides to come back up. She seems very content to lie down there for the time being." He filled the bowl for her, possibly to attract her up the stairs .

"Maybe I should go down and bring her back up..."

Hannibal shook his head, grasping her shoulders to lean down and press a kiss to her lips. "Let her be. Its cooler down there." He released her and stepped around to head upstairs for his own shower.

Alana watched the basement door for a long few moments before turning away to pour herself another cup of coffee while she waited for Hannibal to finish getting himself ready. She couldn't shake the strange feeling in her gut. She thought of the door that Farah was sitting at, expecting to be let in.

Her curiosity roared at her. She wanted to know what was behind the door that interested the dog so much. Hannibal hadn't offered up the information or let her in. It just seemed so unusual that Farah picked that door when Alana was with her and Hannibal was just up the stairs.

When Hannibal came down the stairs in one of his impeccable suits Alana decided to brave the question. "Why do you think Farah wants in that room downstairs so badly?"

"I am sadly not privy to her thoughts. I am sure she will become bored of the game soon enough. I'll walk you to your car."

Alana looked back towards the basement, seeming to think about it for a moment before letting it go and heading out to the car. She leaned up to kiss him again when she was beside the vehicle, hands resting on his chest. "Are we meeting for lunch?"

"I have a twelve-thirty appointment with a patient. I apologize." Hannibal knew that was generally when she took a lunch, but this patient had seemed desperate to get in to see him. He wasn't one to deny his patients.

She nodded, understanding. She knew immediately it must have been important if it interrupted their lunch together. "I'll try to drop by for dinner. If I miss you tonight I'll be sure to catch you in the morning."

She opened her car door and gave Hannibal one last squeeze on his hand before climbing inside. She didn't really want to go, though the only reason she had was that she hadn't wanted to remove her cheek from Hannibal's chest this morning. She found herself very content with the relationship she'd formed with Hannibal. He treated her like a queen.

Alana waved out the window at Hannibal as she backed from his driveway and he returned the wave before turning and heading back inside. She pulled out onto the road and started up the street. She glanced to the side when she noticed a familiar car but it could have been anyone's car. She didn't see anyone in it.

It just looked a lot like Lounds' personal vehicle. No, she wouldn't be that nosy as to bother them at home, would she? Alana wanted to give Lounds the benefit of the doubt. No one could be that slimy.

In Freddie's defense, she wasn't there to bother Hannibal Lecter in his home. She was waiting patiently for him to leave actually. She could wait for some time, and she did. She checked her watch and saw that it'd been an hour since Bloom left. Lecter was finally stepping out of his home to go to his car, entering it and pulling out.

Perfect.

The FBI's version of investigation wasn't quite as thorough as Freddie Lounds, in her personal opinion. Of course, they were bound by laws. While Freddie technically was as well she had already proven she would do anything for the story of a lifetime.

Things she had noticed that she realized the FBI may have not. The copycat murders began after Will Graham became involved with the Minnesota Shrike case. Will Graham wasn't the only one to have become involved at that time. She noted that Hannibal Lecter was directly involved in the case as well. 

According to Abigail Hobbs he'd been present in Minnesota when Marissa Shore was found following Cassie Boyle. He had meetings with Will Graham throughout the following cases he worked. Donald Sutcliffe was referred to Graham by Lecter and Lecter visited the hospital while Graham was laid up in bed due to fever.

Then there was the history of violent patients that Lecter had. Freddie had dug up a connection between the death of a patient of one Dr. Bedelia du Maurier to Dr. Lecter. He had referred the patient to her. There was the instance of Franklyn Froideveaux, who was connected to a serial killer, a serial killer that Lecter killed in his own office. One that Freddie discovered had visited Hannibal's home before his office. Nosy neighbors were a boon to Freddie's job.

Dr. Lecter just seemed connected to a variety of mentally unstable, violent individuals, most of them being under his psychiatric care. Freddie could honestly say she'd never felt all that comfortable around Dr. Lecter, not since that meeting in his office. He had been an intimidating man, ending any potential for conversation and seeing right through her immediately. She didn't like that kind of person.

They were difficult to analyze and pick apart. Someone being smarter than her was something she wasn't willing to accept. Especially not when she felt they were dangerous as well. She knew he had an affection to Abigail Hobbs, the two of them seeming to share secrets. Abigail had avoided talking about Dr. Lecter during their conversations. It was like she was hiding something. It made Freddie wonder if Lecter was hiding something as well.

Things that Freddie had discovered during her investigation of Dr. Lecter thus far was that he returned to his home often at the lunch hour. This was a deviation from his normal routine of eating at the office. He would purchase extra food when he hadn't held a dinner party in some time, as evidenced by his receipts. Freddie noted that his relationship with Alana would cause a need for extra food to feed her but not as much as he was purchasing according to the reeipts she was digging from his trash over night.

Being a reporter wasn't always a pretty job.

Other notes she'd taken were that he had been invited to Will Graham's home the night of Abigail Hobbs's murder and he wasn't home or at his office during that period of time. In fact, there was no account of his whereabouts, besides his own claim of getting caught up at the office. Freddie had decided that it was most likely that he was at Will Graham's. 

Perhaps he was covering up for one of his patients, as he'd done in the past. Freddie was going on a hunch and it wasn't one she could bring easily to the police. What could she say? That she thought a respected, reputable psychiatrist was housing a serial killer because he wanted to protect his patient? No, not without knowing for sure. She could look like a complete fool if she was wrong and she wasn't the type to look foolish.

She waited until she was certain Dr. Lecter had gone, without the possibility of returning before approaching the house. She walked around to the more private back and slipped through the fence. She peered through windows until she saw what she suspected. A security system. 

For a moment she thought her attempts were going to go to waste but she noticed there was no tell tale blinking indicating that it was armed. Had Dr. Lecter forgotten to arm his home when there was a serial killer out there waiting for a chance to kill them? Or was the system based on motion sensors and having the dog there prevented Lecter from arming it?

Freddie went to the back door and picked the lock, feeling almost smug from this working out to her advantage. She slipped inside and was a little concerned that the dog wasn't there. The dog had been there this morning and Dr. Bloom hadn't taken it.

Dr. Lecter kept few files on his patients at his place of residence. Everything was in impeccable order and it was easy to find what she needed to find. As someone who lived alone he kept drawers unlocked and doors open. She found nothing of interest though. She went back towards the kitchen and noted the open basement door. It was the only place she hadn't checked.

Down the stairs she went into the dark, her phone flipping on so she could see in the dark. There was nothing of interest down there. One room was a bathroom, and it had medication on the counter. She read off what the medications were and frowned. They didn't seem like something Dr. Lecter would need to take and they certainly weren't in the master bath.There were toiletries in this bathroom as well, which added to the unusual.

She heard a scratching noise and went still, listening carefully before approaching the sound. Dr. Lecter couldn't have come back already. She saw the door which appeared to the be the source and approached it. She pressed her ear against it and listened. There was a soft whine. Was the dog locked in there?

She grasped the door handle and opened it. The dog rushed out and sniffed around her legs. Freddie smiled down at it before stepping into the room. It was pitch black inside and cell phone light could only reveal so much as she stepped inside. The dog tripped her up again and she turned the light down at it.

There was a rattle in the dark, the sound of something dragging across the carpet and she turned quickly towards it. Something sharp plunged into her abdomen, driving fabric into her flesh. She was startled by the pain, eyes widening. Whoever it was that stabbed her yanked the weapon free and stabbed her again, this time a downward strike, driving between her collarbone and neck. 

She felt her knees buckle beneath her and she dropped her phone, lifting her hands to try and fend off the attacker. She could feel the blood gushing down from the wound on her neck. Her knees crunched into delicate glass when she hit the floor, cutting into her stockings and skin. Her hand flew to her neck, only to be cut as another stab was plunged down. 

The shard of glass broke after it plunged into her neck again, blood filling her throat. She never had a chance to scream. Her hands clawed at her throat as she fell backwards onto the rug. The dog trotted over and started licking at her face. She tried to see around the animal at who was attacking her. The light from her phone was dimly illuminating the room from its place on the floor. Her eyes were adjusting.

So were her attacker's.

"Oh god." A familiar voice. "Oh god, no. No." 

Will Graham grasped at her throat, trying to stop the bleeding. Or choke her. She wasn't sure. She was choking as it was. Graham looked so desperate. She saw the chain around his neck. Apparently Dr. Lecter was keeping more than one dog.

It would have made a great story, she thought to herself. Psychiatrist keeps serial murderer as pet... if Will Graham was even the serial murderer. She hated dying not knowing if that was true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeeee how thrilling.


	16. Buffalo Style Chicken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of a reporter's findings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, this chapter ended up shorter than expected.

The blood was everywhere. His hands were soaked. There were cuts the insides of his fingers and palm where he'd gripped the piece of broken plate. Lounds's blood mixed with his own. She was lying limp and lifeless in the middle of the room, which was dimly lit by her cell phone light. Will was backed against the wall, afraid to touch her any more. 

He had a panic attack. Air fled him, his breathing rapid and shallow. He shook and choked down a sob as he pressed himself tight into the corner of the room, hands pressing against his ears.

The entire set up had been for Hannibal. He'd broken the dim bulb with the breakfast plate, then broke the plate into large shards for weapons. Farah had gotten upset over the noise and started scratching at the door. His plan was that when Hannibal entered to fix the bulb he would cut the man's throat.

It wasn't supposed to be Freddie Lounds. What was she even doing here? He'd killed her. He'd relished the feeling of the glass shard entering her skin and the hot touch of blood over his hands. Freedom was what his mind was screaming. Freedom from this. Even if he starved to death at least he'd given it a shot.

Alana would have come searching for Hannibal. She would have found him and seen how he was being kept. There was a possibility of clearing his name of the five murders he didn't commit. He would have even admitted to Abigail's murder if it meant having a chance at getting his life back in order. No, he would have admitted to it anyway.

This wasn't part of the plan. His hands slid up into his hair and he twisted it tightly as he shook. He gulped in air, eyes looking wildly towards the body. The phone. She had lit her way with her phone.

He crawled across the floor and grabbed the phone. It was slippery in his hands, blood staining the screen and dimming the light further, giving the room a red hue. He needed to call someone. The police. Jack Crawford. Alana. It had been a mistake, he'd been panicked in the darkness. 

"Will."

The phone was fumbled and slipped from his blood soaked fingers at the voice. He looked up at Hannibal as the man approached him in the dark, just a shadow dimly outlined by red tinted light. 

"What have you done, Will?"

"I didn't mean... I didn't..." 

Hannibal risked blood on his pressed slacks as he knelt down in front of Will, grasping the younger man's wrists in his. "Did you cut yourself?"

"I killed... I killed her... I killed Lounds..." 

"Will. Look at me." Hannibal cupped Will's face, drawing his attention back to his eyes. "Did you cut yourself?"

"Yes." He was holding his hands in front of him, trembling. "Dr. Lecter..."

Hannibal's arms came around him, crushing him close against his chest. Will knew he was getting blood on the doctor. He trembled in the embrace, feeling Hannibal's hand press against the back of his head, fingers curling into his hair in a comforting touch. 

"I know. You killed Freddie Lounds." His voice was a rumble in Will's ear.

"I wanted to kill you." Will whispered. Everything had been perfect. Will could have caused some damage.

Hannibal leaned back, grasping Will's shoulders and holding him at a slight distance. They stared at each other in the dim light, Will under scrutiny. Will felt himself breaking under the gaze but he didn't turn his eyes away.

"I want out." HIs voice was hoarse and tight.

Hannibal cupped his face against and leaned in. Will closed his eyes, accepting what resulted in a kiss. His lip was bitten and he made a soft noise before his mouth was invaded. Will let it happen, trembling, crumbling under Hannibal's touch.

When the kiss was broken he was released as well. Hannibal stood and left Will sitting on his knees, hands opened before him, one throbbing from the cuts. Farah nudged her face into his uncut hand, licking at the blood and trying to get a reaction out of Will. She wanted to be pet.

Hannibal returned and unlocked the chain. It fell away from Will's neck like a great weight. He took Will's arm and pulled him to his feet, leading him from the dark and bloodied room, taking him to the bathroom where a shower had already been started. He helped Will from his clothing and guided him towards the water.

Will followed direction, his mind a fog. Hannibal guided him to sit down in the tub and took the hand shower from the wall and begin the process of spraying the blood away. The water was stained red as it swirled around him down towards the drain. Will couldn't pull his eyes away from it.

He didn't resist any of Hannibal's touches. He even leaned into a few of them, the way fingers felt in his hair. He could almost picture Alana but the memory of her lips on his was wiped away by Hannibal's. Hannibal sat in his mind like a cancer, filling the space and eating away the good memories.

"How did you feel killing Freddie Lounds?"

Will lifted his eyes, looking at the man before the spray of water washed over his head. He turned his head away slightly until it moved downwards again.

"...broken." His voice sounded distant to his ears.

"Have I broken you, Will?"

Will didn't answer. He'd heard that question before and when he'd answered he had answered under the perception that he was broken. He hadn't been. He'd been on the edge and cracking but that wasn't broken. 

Hannibal turned the shower off and stood, stepping from the room presumeably to fetch a towel. Will turned his head to look around the room, vision slightly blurry from the water in his eyes. He saw it on the counter. The straight razor Hannibal used to shave his face.

He almost slipped as he lurched out of the bathtub but he kept his feet. He reached for the razor and held it tightly in his hand when he managed to get his fingers around it. He heard the footsteps behind him and he turned.

Hannibal stood still in the doorway, watching him. His head tilted slightly, expression neutral as he examined the scene before him. 

"Are you going to kill me now, Will?"

Will looked down at the razor, held in his cut hand. "... No... " He looked back up at Hannibal. "I know a better way to hurt you."

He drew the blade across his neck, blood spurting forth. He closed his eyes tight and didn't see Hannibal rushing forward. He felt the hand at his neck and he was guided down to the floor. The blood felt so hot against his skin. 

He stared up at Hannibal, met his eyes. Hannibal returned the stare for long seconds, a tension in his expression. Will's lips upturned slightly, feeling satsified. He was so close to his freedom. It was waiting just over the cliff edge.

His eyes sank closed as the edges of his vision started to blacken. No more cages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well BE that way, William!


	17. Sausage, Egg and Cheese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana brings up her concerns to the men in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Classical music = great.

"Freddie Lounds has officially been reported missing by a friend of her's." Jack Crawford rubbed his hand over his face, clearly frustrated. "We all know how Will felt about Miss Lounds, so I think we should keep a mind open to it possibly being Will Graham that took her." 

Brian Zeller glanced to Jimmy Price and they both looked back at Jack. "So are we being called in to investigate her missing person's case or is the local P.D. starting on it?"

"As of right now we don't have an invitation." 

Jimmy lifted his brows and he shared a look with Brian, before looking back at Jack. "So you're saying we're going to have second pickings on her apartment? Well that's upsetting."

"Have you tried telling them we think its connected to the Graham murders?" Brian added on, arms crossing over his chest. There was a discomfort in his eyes that Jimmy didn't share.

"I have, but as its only a missing person's and not a murder they don't seem to think its appropriate for us to step in yet." Jack opened his palm, pressing his lips together. "Apparently Miss Lounds has many people she's made upset and any one of them could have taken her."

Brian looked down at the desk, head shaking slightly. "... I'd really like to get in there. Before a body is found."

"You'll both be the first to know if we're invited in to get involved." Jack replied before dismissing them.

He sighed heavily and rubbed his hand across his forehead. No news from the Graham case in weeks then suddenly this. How could they not have a single lead? He was one man, one mentally unstable man, with no friends or family to speak of. Jack found it incredibly frustrating. 

There was a knock at his door and he glanced up before growling a come in. He really needed to just think.

Alana slipped inside, walking towards the chair to pull it out and sit down across the desk from Jack. "Hello, Jack." 

"Hello, Dr. Bloom. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Its about Freddie Lounds." She folded her hands into her lap, opening her mouth before closing it. She seemed to be rolling her thoughts around in her head before speaking. "I think I saw her car outside Hannibal's home a week ago."

Jack nodded slightly. "Not surprising, considering she was practically stalking the man to get a story out of him. Why are you telling me this? We're not heading the investigation."

Alana sighed and reached up to brush her hair out of her face. "Because I'm not entirely sure what I saw was really Freddie Lounds."

"And you want me to look into it." 

Alana nodded. "It could be a lead. If she stopped there she could have been seen by Hannibal's neighbors. They might be able to tell you what she was looking for. I may not have liked Freddie Lounds but I would like to see her returned, if possible."

Jack smiled at her, and nodded. "Alright. I'll look into it personally. How have you been doing through all of this, Dr. Bloom?"

"I've been well enough. I appreciate the police protection that you had on me, though I miss it in moments like these. I understand why you couldn't keep it on me for longer though." She folded her hands into her lap as she crossed her legs. "Hannibal makes sure I stay safe at his place at least."

"You two are very close now, aren't you? I'm glad, we need people to rely on in this world." Jack enjoyed watching the relationship blossom. At least some small good had come out of everything. He was just thankful that nothing had happened to Alana for moving on as she had.

"How is your wife, Jack? I know she's been very sick."

"She's doing a bit better. Not the best, but we're working through it." Jack picked up his pen and tapped it on the table. "I wish this case would come to a close, to be honest. I'd like to spend more time at home with her but I hate the idea of leaving this type of case open. Its just we haven't any leads since Beverly was murdered."

Alana nodded, then forced a slight smile. "Its one of those cases that we almost don't want more leads.. since the leads always seemed to appear in the shape of someone's death."

Jack nodded along with her, brows lifting as he laid his pen down. "I really want to get into Freddie Lounds's apartment. I need to see the evidence in there. She hadn't bothered any of us for a look into Will Graham's case in awhile and I think that meant she might have been on to something. We all know how she likes to be the first to know what's going on."

"Do you think she found a lead on Will Graham?"

"I do. And I think I might have to push my luck with the local police and get onto this case. I need to know what it was she was looking into. Even if its just to assuage my own curiosity."

Alana looked down into her lap, for some reason thinking of the door in Hannibal's basement. So many hidden things. Jack noted her look and he leaned in. 

"Is there something bothering you, Dr. Bloom?"

"No, nothing. I was just.. thinking about something. Its something I have to talk to Hannibal about. Can you let me know if you find anything on Freddie Lounds?"

Jack nodded and leaned back in his seat as Alana stood and stepped out. It was a lead at least. He wondered if he should involve the police but if he had to speak to Dr. Lecter he would prefer it to be on more personal terms. He didn't want the man to feel like he was being interrogated.

Alana didn't much care if Hannibal felt interrogated. She wanted to know why Farah was so interested in the door. She drove to Hannibal's house after her meeting with Jack and climbed out of the car. She hadn't seen the car that looked like Lounds's on her way here. Perhaps it was just.. a fluke. 

She knocked on the door as was habit and waited for Hannibal to answer nervously. The door swung open and Hannibal smiled at the sight of her. "Alana. Its good to see you."

She smiled in return and leaned in to kiss him before entering. "Hannibal. I'm sorry I'm a bit late, I just got done talking to Jack."

"Oh? Did he need to speak with you on something?" Hannibal guided her towards the dining room to sit her down, sitting across from her. His shirt sleeves were rolled. It was clear he must have started preparing dinner.

"No, I needed to speak with him actually. I noticed Freddie Lounds's car up the block from your house and I thought maybe one of your neighbors might have seen something. This was a week ago, obviously.."

Hannibal's head tilted slightly and he looked at her with an inquisitive expression. "That is not all that is on your mind, is it?"

She shook her head and gave him a slight smile. "... Hannibal... are you keeping something from me?"

"No, of course not." Hannibal reached to take her hand in his. "Is there a reason why you feel that way?"

"I think I might just be paranoid. I just can't stop thinking about Farah scratching at that door. She only does that when there's someone on the other side." It was a behavior that she expressed at home as well, whenever Hannibal or someone else came to the front door, or when they closed them in.

"I see." Hannibal stood, guiding her up. "If you would like to see what is beyond that door then I shall show you. I promise that I have nothing to hide from you, Alana." 

She smiled gratefully at him and let him guide her down the stairs to the room in question. He opened it and flicked the light, allowing her inside first. There was nothing in the room besides a few boxes and a few lamps that didn't have a place in the main part of the house. Alana stood in the room and turned, examining everything in it before looking back at Hannibal.

"Was there someone in this room that day Farah was sitting outside of it?"

"Not as far as I know." Hannibal stood aside so she could step out of the room. "If there were someone within this room it was without my knowledge. Do you believe someone was in my house that day?"

Alana sighed and looked towards the bathroom, then back up at Hannibal. "I don't know. It was just such strange behavior out of Farah."

Hannibal reached up to cup her face, leaning to kiss her forehead. "Its an understandable concern. If there was anyone in my home they were gone by the time I returned."

"Do you think it could have been Will?"

He paused, leaning down slightly to catch her eyes "Are you afraid, Alana?"

Alana met his eyes and nodded. "I have been ever since this started. I'm not sure if I'm more afraid of Will or _for_ him."

"How do you mean?"

"Madness must be a terrible thing to suffer through." Alana drew Hannibal's hands away from her cheeks. "I remember more lately the man he used to be when I knew him as a teacher. He was quiet, unsociable, awkward... Beautiful in his own way. What Jack did to him is hard to fathom."

"Do you hate Jack Crawford for breaking Will?"

Alana stared at Hannibal's chest. "... I hate Jack for breaking him. I hate you for not being able to save him. I hate myself for not holding his hand when I had the chance. I feared for my self preservation more than I should have feared for his."

Hannibal sighed through his nose and he took Alana's hand to pull her out of the dark basement and back up to the light. "I promsed you that you are safe here in my home, Alana. Even if there was someone in the basement, nothing would have happened to you."

Alana looked around the bright kitchen, taking in the food that had been started cooking. She watched Hannibal return to the task, eyes focused. He was so different from Will. He had his own qualities that attracted her to him. He was stronger than Will. Someone that Alana could rely on to protect her.

"I love you, Hannibal." 

He looked up at her and smiled. It was a fond smile. He didn't respond though. He simply smiled and returned to his cooking. She should have felt disappointed.


	18. Chicken, Broccoli & Cheddar Croissant Crust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will breaks under the pressure.

It was like rising out of water. His limbs felt heavy and weak. The blankets laid over him felt like lead. There was sunlight coming through the curtains, just little cracks of light. He could watch the dust motes float while he laid still in the bed. Hannibal came to sit beside him and brushed his hair from his forehead. In the evenings he read a book outloud.

The first meal he had after waking was Freddie Lounds. Hannibal told him that it was the reporter. Will ate it anyway. He was starving. The meat tasted as good as anything Hannibal cooked. Hannibal smiled while watching him. 

There was no chain around his neck. He was in what appeared to be a guest room in Hannibal's home. He was confined to the bed, with a catheter provided. Hannibal was astute in keeping him cared for.

Though he didn't see Hannibal every afternoon as he had before. Sometimes he missed him in the evenings until late. Some mornings were very early or later in the day. His meals weren't as on time consistant but they still came. 

Will felt neglected. 

He and Hannibal hadn't shared words since Will woke up. Will just silently accepted the food and kept to himself. It was unspoken between them that Will needed to be silent where he was. In exchange Will could have cracks of sunlight. through the drapes. 

Hannibal stepped into the room this day and Will continued to stare at the dust motes through the air. He watched the doctor go to the window and he pulled the curtains open for the first time, letting in a full shaft of light fall over the bed. Will winced and turned his head away from the sudden wash of light. It was sunset.

"Will, how are you feeling?" Hannibal didn't turn away from the window.

Will didn't answer. He turned his head back, squinting at the light. He lifted a hand to block some of it until his eyes adjusted. It was so strange to see natural light in such amounts after so long of barely anything. 

Hannibal turned and approached the side of the bed, sitting on the chair that was a permanent installation beside the mattress. He sat down and crossed his legs, folding his hands into his lap. "Are you still feeling suicidal?"

Will wedged his elbows into the bed and shifted himself up. He winced as he got himself at up as best he could. Hannibal leaned to help tuck a pillow behind him. Will stared at the end of the bed. His face itched from the hair that had grown, and his hair was hanging far into his eyes at this point. He never did get that hair cut.

"You can't have us both." He chose to say.

"You mean yourself and Alana Bloom?" Hannibal tilted his head, watching Will much as a snake watched a mouse.

Will didn't answer. His eyes drifted to his hand resting on the bed spread, eyelids half lowered. He felt tired. He always felt tired. The bandage was still on his neck. A new scar for the world to see. If only he'd bled out on that floor.

"I believe you are correct in saying that, Will. She became quite curious about your room downstairs, though thankfully I had already moved you up here." Hannibal picked a miniscule piece of lint off his knee. "Its a matter of time before she finds you here."

"Will you kill me before then?"

"Do you feel concern for your life even after you attempted to end it yourself?"

Will's eyes moved to Hannibal's knee. He stared dully at it. Hannibal was watching him, head inclined. Will's eyes traveled up to Hannibal's chest, shoulders, then to his face. 

"Do you love me, Dr. Lecter?"

Hannibal's expression didn't change. He gazed at Will, meeting his eyes. They shared a long gaze. Hannibal uncrossed his legs and stood, though was still bent. He rested a hand on Will's other side and leaned down to kiss the man. It was brief and he began to lean back until Will grabbed his tie and held him tight, forcing the kiss to linger.

Will's hand lifted and he grasped Hannibal's face, the kiss deepening at his insistance. Hannibal rested a knee on the bed to lean further over the younger man. There was a small noise as Will sank into the bed, drawing Hannibal to a pause. He broke the kiss and glanced down at the fists Will had made, grasping the blankets in his hands.

"Will?"

"I still have the catheter..."

Hannibal nodded and gently pried Will's hands free of the top cover. He swept the blanket off and reached for a pair of gloves in the drawer next to the bed. Will closed his eyes and sank his head back, breathing slowly as Hannibal did his work. 

"Will."

He opened his eyes and looked down at Hannibal as he removed his gloves, seating himself on the edge of the bed. The two shared a long look, Hannibal's hand resting on Will's leg. 

"Are you inviting me into your bed?"

Will lifted his arms, opening them towards Hannibal. The man smiled slightly and leaned forward, kissing Will again. The younger man clung to him, stroking fingers through Hannibal's hair. He freed one hand from the now mussed locks and slid it down, pressing against Hannibal's chest. He started picking at buttons, pulling them open awkwardly.

Hannibal was a little startled by the insistance and he pulled Will tight against himself for a moment before leaning back. He let Will pull his buttons open, examining his face. Hannibal grasped Will's chin when the tie was pulled and he tipped it upwards. They shared a long look, Hannibal taking note of the touch of madness there. Will looked so broken. 

"Are you well, Will?"

"Don't leave me tonight, Dr. Lecter." His voice was soft. His fingers curled in Hannibal's shirt, giving him an urging pull. "Please."

"I have plans with Alana." Hannibal's voice was just as soft, a soothing hand touching Will's cheek. 

"I'll give you whatever she gives you." Will's voice held a promise. He took Hannibal's hand from his face and guided it down, tucking it between his legs. "Anything you want."

Hannibal's head tilted and his eyes lingered on Will's face, the way his cheeks were flushed and how he looked so desperate for the attention. He could acknowledge that he'd been neglecting Will lately.

"Allow me to step out and call her."

He carefully extracted his hand from Will's grip and stepped into the hallway. Will waited on the bed, breathing becoming a little short. He slid his hands between his legs and leaned back against the pillows. It felt odd to be touching himself after so much neglect. He wasn't big on masturbation as it was.

Hannibal returned from the hall and took a moment to stare at him. He reached up and loosened his tie as he approached the bed. There was a satisfied look in Hannibal's eye as he knelt on the bed, looming over Will.

Will clung to him, arching hips up to offer Hannibal what he'd almost taken from Will before. He kept his head turned, eyes squeezed shut, jaw tight. 

Hannibal was content to partake in it now, accepting it as it was offered to him. Will kissed his shoulders when Hannibal pushed into him, nails drawing welts across the older man's back. He met thrusts with his own, an active participant in the sexual acts committed though he avoided attempts at kissing, forehead pressing against Hannibal's shoulder.

When finished Will stayed against Hannibal's side, nuzzling in close. He was exhausted, still not fully recovered from his wound. He kissed the older man slowly when his face was tipped up towards Hannibal's. 

"Hannibal." His voice was gentle. "Can I have a towel?"

Hannibal glanced down at him, then climbed from the bed. It seemed Hannibal was feeling a bit sluggish as well. Will watched him pull pants on and step from the room. When Hannibal pulled the door near shut behind him Will let out a careful breath. He climbed from the bed and padded to the door. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath then ripped it open.

He didn't look anywhere else. He just tore down the hallway blindly. He slipped and almost took a header down the stairs. He could hear food steps behind him. It drove him to run faster. He hit the front door and ripped it open, feeling a hand barely miss his wrist as he tore outside into the evening. 

He entered the street and ran, not looking behind. If he looked behind it might slow him. He couldn't afford to slow down. He had to keep running even though his body protested. Headlights came around the corner and he was forced to skid to a halt, his hands thrusting out.

"Stop.. Stop! Please stop!"

The car screeched to a stop, a bare few inches from his knees. He came around to the passenger side and banged frantically on the window until the door opened and the older man inside unlocked the door. Will yanked the door open and dove into the front seat. 

"Drive, _drive_."

The man hit the gas and drove. Will bent forward and covered his head, gasping for breath as he shook. The sobs started to come a second later and he couldn't even breathe. 

"Do you need a hospital?"

Will couldn't answer. He just gulped in that new car smell, hands twisting in his hair as he tried to calm himself down. He didn't care where he was taken, as long as it was away from where he had been for who knew how long. He barely noticed the time go by and panicked further when he felt the car pulling to a stop.

"Don't, don't stop, plea--" They were at the hospital.

The man climbed from the car, leaning back in to tell him to stay put before rushing into the hospital. Will grasped the inside of the car, turning rapidly around as if Hannibal might have followed them here. He squeezed his eyes shut and lowered his head, shaking uncontrollably. 

He gasped at the sound of the glass being tapped on and fumbled with the lock to get out of the car. The nurse wrapped him in a hospital gown quickly, guiding him over to the gurney. 

"Sir, what is your name?"

"Will Graham. My name is Will Graham. I need to talk to Jack Crawford. Special Agent Jack Crawford, he's FBI, I need to talk to him immediately."

"Lets get you inside first, can you tell me what happened?"

Will gripped the bars of the gurney, staring up at the ceiling as it passed. "I've been held captive for... for I don't know, I don't know, he murdered five people. Please call Jack Crawford. I need to speak with Jack Crawford of the FBI, his number is 555-7964, its his private cell phone number, _please_ "

"Sir, you're having an anxiety attack. I need you to take deep breaths and try to calm down. We're going to get you a sedative to--"

He grabbed at the woman's arm, only to be pulled back by the other nurse. "No. No sedatives, please, I'm calming down. Please don't sedate me, please."

They sedated him.

As soon as they realized exactly who he was the police were involved before Jack Crawford was called. He was handcuffed to his bed, which he pulled at weakly. He couldn't settle. They would call Hannibal, he was his psychatrist. Jack would surely call him.

The sedative beckoned him into a doze. His mind took him to nightmares, of hands on his body that he didn't want. Breath on his neck, lips against his. He'd said yes to it, allowed it to happen. 

"Will."

Will jerked awake, pulling hard at the handcuffs as he turned his head around in a panic. He couldn't get free, he was trapped. 

"Will, calm down." Jack Crawford stood at the end of the bed, arms crossed over his chest. "You're in the hospital, a guy brought you in here naked and panicked."

"Dr. Lecter. Dr. Lecter, he--"

"Dr. Lecter can't help you now, Will, you've murdered six people."

Will let out a frustrated cry and yanked at the cuffs. "No! No no no, listen to me! You have to listen to me! Dr. Lecter held me captive, he held me in his basement, he tortured me, he raped me, Jack, listen to me"

"You're madder than I thought, Will. Did I really push you this far? Did I do this to you?" Jack shook his head. "You're under arrest, Will, you have the right to remain silent--"

Another frustrated noise and Will slammed his head back into the pillow. "Alana, I want to talk to Alana, I need someone with a sense of reason"

"You should be asking for a lawyer, not that it's going to do you much good. Keep an eye on him." Jack turned to leave.

"Jack, please. Listen to me. Give me a rape kit. I'm not crazy. Please, I'm covered in evidence, process me, I have his skin under my nails, _process me_."

Jack paused and looked back at him. He just glared at him for a moment before turning and walking out.

Will shook, vision blurring as he glared up at the ceiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack is a jerk.


	19. Pepperoni PIzza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana visits Will to talk about mounting evidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. I had to get this chapter Betaread before I posted it. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Alana peered inside at Will, who's eyes were closed. He looked so different with his hair so short and his face shaved. This was the first time she'd seen him since before he vanished. It was nerve wracking. She had approached as quietly as she could but she knew he had to have heard her heels.

"Will?"

Will sat up, rubbing a hand over his face before looking out at Alana. He looked exhausted. There was a hollowness to his eyes.

"Hi." She tried to offer him a smile, but with that way he looked at her was crushing.

"You thought I was serial killer."

Alana's face fell. "...Will, there was evidence stacked against you."

Will approached the wall rapidly and slammed both hands against it. "You fucked him!"

"I didn't _know_ , Will!" Alana's voice pitched upwards, her hand clenching tight at her sides. "Calm down, before they sedate you."

Will backed away from the glass, jaw clenched. There was emotion in his eyes now, undeniable resentment.

"Will, I don't know what to say. I really don't. Everything that's happened.." Alana shook her head, reaching up to wipe her eyes. "I'm sure you've been told what's been going on."

"No." Will balled his hands into fists. "I haven't been told anything. I spend my days having Chilton prod around in my head, with this medication or that medication being put into my system. I don't don't even know what I'm on any more." 

Alana winced, brow furrowing as she looked down. "Hannibal's gone. He vanished over night, before the DNA could come back on the skin under your nails and the.. ... semen found..." 

Will rolled his eyes up and shook his head. "I'm not surprised. He knew what was going to happen the moment I stepped out that door."

"His private journals have been processed. He had many detailed accounts. There was evidence found in his home from the other murders." She pulled in a breath, voice cracking. "Jack is trying to figure out if it was just.. all him or if you were involved as well."

"I wasn't." Will paced the cell, hands shaking. "I didn't killed Cassie Boyle or Marissa Shore or--"

"I know." Alana swallowed, lips pursing slightly. "Or Abigail Hobbs."

"No, I killed Abigail Hobbs." Will turned, pointing at the floor. "I know I killed Abigail Hobbs. Lecter told me that I --"

"Will, _Hannibal_ told you. He told you for weeks that you killed Abigail Hobbs. You were sick, you lost time and you didn't remember and he took advantage of that." She stepped towards the plexiglass wall. "He wrote in his journals that he killed Abigail Hobbs, and Freddie Lounds."

Will shook his head, brow furrowing deeply and a sheen of wetness forming over his eyes. "I don't understand."

Alana placed her hand against the plexiglass. "Will, the evidence is stacking up. You had his skin under your nails, there was evidence of you being held at his home. There's journals of him detailing the murders..."

"Its sloppy. Its not like him." Will couldn't look at her. "After everything he did to plan the framing.. the murders were impeccable.. This is sloppy, you see that its sloppy don't you?"

"Will..." Alana shook her head at him. "This is a good thing. There's enough evidence indicating Hannibal as the killer. The details were phenominal." She pressed her hand harder against the clear wall. "You're going to be let out of here."

He rubbed his hand over his short hair, then over the back of his neck. He frowned and looked up at Alana, searching her face for the lie that wasn't there. 

"A month is long enough, right?" She smiled weakly. "Its enough. I'll refer you to a psychatrist--"

"The last psychatirst you referred me to framed me for murder and raped me." 

Alana went silent, her hand sliding down off the plexiglass. "I didn't know. Will, I didn't know. You can't keep blaming me for something I couldn't have known, you just can't."

Will trembled, sinking down onto the cot. He held his head in his hands, digging the heels in to his eyes. It caused stars to appear. "I'm sorry. I'm angry. Everyone I know thinks I murdered all those people and I'm stuck in the worst psych ward in the state."

"We're trying to get you out of here."

"I just want someone to help me... Please, just someone help me.." Will leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling. He dropped his hands into his lap. "I just want to go home."

Alana put her hands back to the plexiglass, her heart breaking for him. "I'm sorry...Will, I'm sorry."

"Let me be." Will sank to his side, drawing his legs up onto the cot. "God just let me alone."

There was nothing she could do but follow his request. She rested her forehead briefly against the wall before stepping away from the cell. There wasn't any reason to linger if he wasn't going to talk to her. It was understandable that he was angry. She couldn't imagine how he felt. It was a travesty that he was trapped under Chilton's care.

She was let out of the cell area and she frowned when she saw Jack. She shook her head once. "He's not going to want to talk to you."

"How bad is he?" Jack knew perfectly well this wasn't the best place for a fragile mind like Will's.

"He's emotional. Clearly frustrated with everything that's happened." Alana reached up to gently wipe the corners of her eyes. "He needs help. Real help, not this crap Chilton puts him through." 

"There's still evidence against him, evidence we can't just ignore. Dr. Chilton says he still insists he killed Abigail Hobbs..."

Alana rolled her eyes, looking away. "Hannibal had months to manipulate Will into believing whatever he was told. We have journals documenting the entire thing, evidence stacked to the ceiling against Hannibal Lecter and you're going to still try and pin this onto Will?"

Jack pointed towards the cells. "Will's fingerprints were on the knife that killed Abigail Hobbs, he had genetic material from four other murders in his home and the last contact he had with Lecter was sexual in nature. We need to look at all sides of this."

"He was raped, Jack! He was sick, he was losing time, its documented in the patient logs Lecter was keeping. The same DNA evidence was found in Lecter's house, the evidence is screaming at you, he's screaming at you, Jack!" 

He shook his head, eyes closing for a moment. "Alana, its not that I don't want to help him, its that I need to do my job and my job says I need to look at every facet of the case. Right now I have evidence pointing to two different people and I can't just pick and choose without getting all of the cold facts."

She was flushed from her shouting. Will had begged for someone to help him and it seemed he still wasn't going to get it.

"If it means anything to you I believe Will. I don't think he was involved. I think Hannibal manipulated him and twisted him around and I think he deserves someone on his side."

Jack nodded. "I accept your opinion, Doctor but I need to follow the evidence and right now I need more. I'm going to talk to Will."

He stepped around her, heading into the cell block. It was going to be difficult to face Will again, especially after Alana apparently upset him. He stopped in front of Will's cell and he looked in at the man lying on the cot.

"Will. I need to speak with you about Hannibal Lecter."

Will lifted his head, glaring at Jack. He made no move to get up.

"What you say to me here, today is going to determine how I pursue this case. Do you understand?"

Will sat up then. He gripped the edge of the cot.

"Yes, I understand."


	20. Applewood Bacon, Egg and Cheese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hot summer day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome... to the final chapter of Hot Pocket.

The sounds of cicadas floated in through the windows. They were louder than the white noise of the fan. Will laid there listening to the sound of nature, while sweat beaded on his forehead and trickled down into his hair.

He wanted to go fishing today but that involved getting up. He was enjoying just laying on his bed. 

Farah approached him, nudging her face into his palm. She rested her head with her muzzle being held on the bed, big brown eyes just peering up at him.

He looked back at her for a long few minutes before he sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Her head moved to sit on his knee now. The other dogs lifted their heads expectantly from their beds now that Will was up. 

He rose from the bed and patted his leg to summon the dogs, moving silently through the house. He hesitated slightly before entering his kitchen but moved through it, going towards his back door. He let the dogs out into his yard and sat down on the porch, just watching them tear around the yard like little mad men.

A bird was singing. The cicadas were trilling again. The day was hot. 

The phone was ringing.

Will turned and look back towards the house. He hesitated before standing and going back inside. People mostly called his cell phone, not his house phone. He stopped next to the phone and looked down at it as it jingled in its cradle. 

Farah trotted in from the outside in search of him, whining softly as she sat by his feet. Will looked at her, then back to the phone. He picked it up and put it to his ear.

"Hello?"

_"Hello Will."_

A cold knot formed in his chest, tightening. "Dr. Lecter."

_"I heard you were released from the institution. I am glad that this appears to be truth. How have you been doing since you were released?"_

Farah whined again. Will glanced down at her. He tried to smile at her to show he was okay but it died on his lips.

"You're not my psychiatrist any more, Dr. Lecter. Where are you?"

_"Don't worry, I have no intention to come calling on you. The world is more interesting with you in it."_

"Why did you tell them you killed Abigal Hobbs? And Freddie Lounds?"

_"What is the most logical conclusion you could come up with?"_

Will was silent for a long few moments, eyes focused on the floor where he'd found Abigail's body those long months ago. 

"You love me."

_"There is a phrase that I believe is used most often to soften the blow of something lost... If you love something, you must let it go."_

"There's more to it than that, Dr. Lecter." Will grasped the counter. "If its meant to be it'll come back to you."

There was silence on the line for painful seconds.

_"What do you dream of? What keeps you awake at night?"_

"There's blood in my dreams." Will gripped the the phone tighter. "I dream of the taste of meat in my mouth, knowing its human."

_"Are you very lonely, Will?"_

"You haven't asked me about Alana Bloom." Will ignored Hannibal's question. He was shaking.

Silence again. Then words. _"I suspect she is recovering from my betrayal with all of the strength and grace she normally carries."_

Will closed his eyes, leaning heavily against the counter. He started to pull the phone away from his ear, lowering it for just a second before putting it back to his ear when he heard Hannibal's voice.

_"I must be going. I hope the loneliness in your heart is filled."_

"Hannibal."

_"Yes, Will?"_

"Don't hang up."

There was silence. Then a click on the end of the line. Will lowered the phone and set it back on its cradle. 

Outside the cicadas were trilling. He went outside to listen to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check back here for 'Ramen', which will be a continuation of this story!

**Author's Note:**

> It was rolling around in my head almost immediately after the episode aired and I wanted to focus a little more on depravity than PG-14 tv gentility. I apologize if it's boring.


End file.
